Prophecy's Child
by Denisea
Summary: A sequel to "Skywalker's Legacy" published by me under a different pen name ("Nadahnefu") back in '04. Etan Lippa (Palpatine's son) finds Brenna (Luke's daughter) and plans to rebuild the Empire. Meanwhile, Luke has to deal with training Rupert, a creature-empath who will go insane if left untrained.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_

_I do not own any part of the Star Wars franchise or any of its characters. I have not been paid for any of the stories posted on FanFiction or elsewhere. What you read here are simply the products of my own imagination based on the universe created by George Lucas ._

_Author's Note:_

_Back in 2002, under the pen name "Nadahnefu" (Denise, "not a nephew" — with an e—mail I know longer have access to and a password long since forgotten), I submitted a story called "Skywalker's Legacy" that I had written many years earlier. It only received one (very favorable) review...but not until 2010. So, with the new movie coming out and the one review urging me to "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Make another chapter! Make a sequel! Or something!" Here is the sequel I have had since waaaayy back when but never posted. _

_There are some very strong sexual overtones in this story, especially when you get to Chapter 11, or so. Hence the "T" rating._

_Sadly, FFN won't let me format the "Prophecy Poem" the way I would like, breaking up the stanzas, etc. and multiple columns, so I did the best I could by using periods._

_This is actually the second story in my "Brenna" series (after "Skywalker's Legacy" posted by me as Nadahnefu). There is also the "prequel" to my little series, published in FFN by me under the pen name "DeniseH" (ran out of available document space under "Denisea") and entitled "The Legion Renewed." So if you want to read that backstory, look for it under author "DeniseaH". And if you simply must have more after you read this story, then read "The Face in the Shadows" and then "The Justice of Clan Tahl."_

_What you need to know from "Skywalker's Legacy" before reading this story:_

_In my universe, Luke is an over—protective father trying to keep his daughter Brenna away from the evil Etan Lippa (Palpatine's son — rearrange the letters of "Palpatine" and you get "Etan Lippa") who can sense when somebody uses the Force. Brenna's mother has been out of the picture (you find out what happened to her in another story) since Brenna was about 3 years old. Naturally, being the daughter of two force—sensitives, Brenna is very strong with the force, and creates large "waves" that Etan Lippa can sense when Brenna tries to use the Force._

_In "Skywalker's Legacy," Brenna starts out unaware of her heritage, knows she has a special gift, but has never received any training in it. During the course of the story, she learns who her father is, and begs him to train her, but of course he refuses (trying to keep her safe from Etan Lippa)._

_Enter Rupert, the adopted son of Han and Leia, who also happens to be a force—sensitive. As Luke learns in "Skywalker's Legacy," Rupert's special gift is "creature—empathy." But there's a problem. Unless they are trained to handle their gifts appropriately, creature empaths eventually go insane. So Luke is forced to train Rupert, but simultaneously refuses to train Brenna, which fact she naturally resents and misunderstands his reasons for. So by the end of "Legacy," Brenna is headed off to the Academy (since she can't stand being around while Dad trains Rupert)._

_In "Legacy," there is a brief video meeting of Brenna and Etan Lippa, in which Brenna learns that there is a prophecy (by Yoda) that Skywalker's daughter will mate with Palpatine's son and become the "mother of a new race."_

_And that's where this story picks up..._

_Prologue and Chapter One are below. I hope you enjoy..._

.

**Prophecy's Child**

**by Denisea**

**Prologue**

.

_As my life's end draws near,_

_A vision I see._

_From out of the Darkness:_

_A last prophecy._

_._

_The future will always_

_In motion remain._

_Yet the bond of events_

_Is an unbroken chain. —_—Yoda's _Book of Prophecies_

_._

Etan Lippa smiled to himself and read the reports again. He had eyes everywhere, and his spies had found what he was looking for—or rather _who_ he was looking for. Soon, the daughter of Skywalker would be his. Despite the Jedi's pitiful attempt to hide her, he knew now where she was. Luke Skywalker's skills were no match for his own.

The prophecy was that Brenna would come to him, and together they would start a new race. That much was written in the stars and could not be changed—not that he wanted to change it. Etan Lippa was a patient man. He had waited Brenna's lifetime for the prophecy to ferment. But now he was anxious to bring the waiting to an end.

He had no wish to alter the prophecy. But perhaps he could hurry it along a bit.

And once he had Skywalker's daughter, he could take care of her father at his leisure...

.

**Chapter One**

_Last student of mine, _

_If today's battle you've won,_

_Then time now it is_

_For this final lesson._

_. ._

_The wisdom of Ancients_

_Is given, not earned._

_So, Student, be Teacher,_

_Pass on what you learned._

_. ._

_Rupert sat cross—legged on the carpeted floor of Luke's suite as his teacher spoke._

"A Force—sensitive is like an athlete," Luke explained. "Some people have a gift, but unless that person is trained, that gift remains undeveloped. Every athlete has some kind of physical ability, whether it's balance or flexibility or speed or brute strength or endurance, or a combination of some of these. How that person is trained has something to do with it, but there's also an inherent tendency to be better at some things than others. With a Force—sensitive, it's telekinesis or telepathy or precognition or psychometry or‑‑‑"

"Or creature—empathy," Rupert added. "Okay, so that's why I can't move stuff around the way you can."

"But neither will I ever be able to communicate with animals the way you can."

"I thought you were also a telepath. Mom told me you could talk to her in her head."

"That's true. I can communicate with other sensitives‑‑‑ones that I'm close to, whose presence I can distinguish‑‑‑and even make a suggestion to some non—sensitives. It doesn't always work, though. And I've tried once in a while to communicate with lower forms, and even managed to succeed occasionally, but it takes a lot out of me. You, on the other hand, communicate on a different level‑‑‑an empathic level. And it comes so easy to you that you don't even know you're doing it sometimes. That's where the problem lies."

"My weirding—out," Rupert said, referring to his episodes of losing control while bonding with an animal.

Luke nodded. "What you need to learn is how to separate your feelings from the impressions you receive around you. A fully trained creature—empath can use those impressions to alert him of danger, or to make decisions, or to enhance his own senses. A spider on the wall can tell you when there's somebody behind you. A kinoll in the next clearing can tell you what you'll find there. A mortu on a ship‑‑‑"

"Can tell me when someone is attacking." Rupert nodded. "I thought I was just going nuts."

"No. But it _can_ drive you insane if you don't understand where your feelings and intuitions originate, and what's _you_ as opposed to an impression from some creature around you. An animal can become easily frightened, for example. You're a human being. A human can deal with fear in ways that an animal can't."

"All right," Rupert said. "I think I understand. But what about communication the other way? From me to them, I mean."

Luke hesitated, then said. "If I gave you too much, you'd be a threat to Etan Lippa, and he'd come after you like..."

"Like he did the others?" Ruperts finished. "Hell, I figure he'll come after me anyway, and the more I know, the better my chances, right?"

"I promised your father that‑‑‑"

"I know what you promised him. But before, I didn't know that what I was feeling was the Force. Now that I _do_ know, I want to learn how to use it. And, I mean, like the Mortu, back on Tatooine when the _Falcon_ was attacked. That didn't have to happen. If I could have told him to run and hide, he'd still be alive right now."

"Think about the other side of the coin, Rupert. If I took you all the way, then you'd more likely find yourself in the position of telling an animal to make an attack that it couldn't possibly survive, rather than in a position to save it."

Rupert thought about that for a moment. "I don't think I could ever send an animal to its death for my sake."

"Then count yourself lucky you're _not_ going all the way."

"But what if it wasn't for my sake? What if it was for the sake of someone I loved? I might be able to do it then..."

"Rupert—" Luke began.

"Military commanders trade lives all the time. When you and the other Rebels attacked the Death Star, your leaders knew that most of you wouldn't come back. Hell, my mom was one of those leaders."

Luke shook his head, pardoning his student's arguments as a result of his youth. "Rupert, those leaders were not empathically linked to the soldiers who died. Do you want to experience again what you felt when the mortu died, only a thousand times more intense? By not taking you all the way, I'm sparing you that pain."

Rupert thought a moment in silence, then asked, "You were a Commander in the Rebel Fleet, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever have to...order anyone to his death?"

"More times than I care to think about, Rupert."

"Then how can you preach about what's best for me?"

Luke sighed. "It's precisely because I know what it's like that I _can_ preach. Giving those orders, and dealing with the consequences afterwards, are the hardest things I've ever done."

"But you _did_ it."

"I _had_ to. That's the difference here, Rupert. You _don't_ have to. What you have to do is learn how to deal with your empathy. Now, do you want to get started, or do you want to continue with an argument you're not going to win? Because I'm not going to break my word to your parents."

.

.

.

There was a knock on Brenna's door.

She looked up from her screen and sighed. "Come," she said.

Lucy entered, wearing a smile. "Hey, Bren, there's a group of us going to the wing—ball game tonight. Wanna come?"

Brenna returned her gaze from her cousin to the screen. "No, thank you."

"Oh, come on, it'll be good for you. There aren't any classes tomorrow, anyway."

"No. _Thank_ you."

"Well, okay. But we're all meeting at the Cellar for snacks after the game. Should be around nine or so. Devon Martuk will be there. He's got a crush on you, you know. And he's only the most brilliant sociology student who's ever attended the Academy, besides being the cutest wing—ball player on the team."

"I'm not interested." Brenna turned back to her screen.

"Come on. You can't study _all_ the time. Listen, I'll tell you something about Devon. I heard from Robis Lundin, who heard from somebody else, that Devon's involved in the Underground. _Highly_ involved, if you take my meaning. So what do you say?"

Brenna turned to face her again. "I say that if you want the Underground to _remain_ underground, you should probably keep your mouth shut about what you know. Go without me, and have a good time. I'm not interested in wing—ball, or Devon Martuk, or even the Underground."

Lucy sighed. "One of these days I'm going to stop trying. Oh, by the way, I'm sending a com to Rupert. Got any messages for him or your dad?"

"No."

"Don't you ever say 'yes'?"

Brenna didn't even turn up the corners of her mouth. "Occasionally," she replied.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_And, Student, remember_

_The Emperor's might,_

_And also what passes_

_When Dark takes in Light._

_._

_For Light becomes Dark_

_In a backwards time when_

_A Shield casts a Shadow_

_And the dead live again._

_._

Rupert knocked on the door to Luke's suite uncertainly. He knew that his teacher was always hungry for news about Brenna, but the fact that the news always came through Rupert by way of Lucy also hurt him a little. A single word from Brenna herself would probably have alleviated most of Luke's pain, but Brenna never communicated with her father.

The enter chime sounded, and Rupert went in quietly. Luke had his back to the door. He was sitting at a table with a breakfast laid out before him.

"Good morning, Rupert." Luke said. "Are you hungry? You're welcome to join me for breakfast."

"Thanks, I'm starv—" Rupert began, then stopped. "Actually, _I'm_ fine, but somebody around here is hungry."

"Good," Luke told him, then turned to face him. He was holding a mommin, a small rabbit—like creature native to Mimban but readily available as pets on Coruscant. He had told Leia to make sure that Rupert ate a big breakfast before coming.

Luke held out the mommin to his student. "Why don't you feed your friend, and then we'll get on with your lesson."

Rupert took the mommin, then sat down at the table and began feeding it berries from one of the bowls on the table. "I'm not sure I approve," Rupert said. "Letting him go hungry like that."

"It was necessary," Luke replied.

"A mommin can starve to death in only a day," Rupert reminded him.

"I know," Luke said, standing up and moving away from the table. "But as I said, it was necessary. I had to control the impressions you were getting, to know for sure if you were separating them."

Rupert looked up at him. "By starving an innocent creature?"

"Mommins starve to death in the wild all the time. All I did was make him uncomfortable for a little while. Besides, he's getting a feast now, for all his trouble. He's even got someone to pick out his favorite foods for him. I doubt he's ever had it so good living on his own."

Rupert thought about it for a moment, then rubbed the mommin's head. The animal was in a state close to ecstacy now, and the mood was rubbing off on him. He decided he could forgive Luke, especially since he was getting so much in return. "I got a holo—letter from Lucy."

"Oh?" Luke turned and faced him, careful to keep his tone neutral. "Does she mention anything about Brenna?"

"As a matter of fact, she does," Rupert replied. He was pretty sure Luke knew that Rupert had specifically asked Lucy to relay any news of Brenna she could. It was a small enough repayment for the training he was being given. Rupert reached into his pocket and pulled out a small disk. He handed it to Luke, who calmly walked to the computer and dropped it into the 'play' slot.

Lucy's image appeared in three—dee. Rupert had already programmed it to play at the point where she talked about Brenna, so the holo began in mid—message. "Anyway, I thought you might be interested in knowing that there's a student in Brenna's aero—design class who told me that she got perfect marks on all her examinations. The professor thought she was cheating, but retests gave exactly the same results. So the professor ended up apologizing to her in front of the entire class."

Rupert looked up from the table. "Perfect scores, Luke. That's quite an accomplishment."

Luke ignored him, keeping his attention on the image. "And if you haven't heard already, she got another scholarship, the Torlin Memorial Scholarship for Outstanding Young Engineers. I heard there's usually pretty stiff competition for it, but Brenna won it hands down. It's a sure bet she'll be class valedictorian—if she even stays with the class, that is. If she keeps carrying the maximum credits allowed, she'll finish two years early, and we'll be in the same graduating class."

Luke pressed a button to freeze the image, and turned to his student. "Tell Lucy to ask Bren to drop a couple of courses, and to stop getting straight A's. She shouldn't draw too much attention to herself."

"What about the scholarships?"

Luke rubbed his temples tiredly. "Have Lucy tell her to go ahead and keep the ones she's got—it would be more conspicuous to return them, at this point—but not to apply for any more. Have Lucy tell her that the savings fund was set up specifically for her tuition and expenses."

"Most parents would be proud to have their children win one scholarship, much less two."

"Most parents aren't trying to keep their children incognito, either."

"But aren't you in the least bit _proud_ of her?"

Luke's blue eyes pierced into Rupert. "She's trying to sever all her ties to me, Rupert. That's why she's going after the scholarships, so she won't have to draw on the education fund I set up for her. Is that something to be proud of?"

Rupert didn't have an answer, so Luke turned the hologram back on. Lucy's image spoke again.

"She still won't go out with me and the group, and she doesn't want to study together, either. But knowing my study habits, that's understandable. And Devon Martuk, who is just about the best—looking male human on the campus, asked her out, and she said 'no' to him, too. If she would just toss him _my_ way, it wouldn't be so bad. But I can't complain too much about my love life, I guess. I've had three dates so far this week, and had to turn down five others. I mean, after all, a girl has to spend _some_ time studying‑‑‑"

Rupert motioned Luke to turn the recording off. "That's it. The rest is just gossip."

Luke nodded, accepting the information without comment.

"There's something else you might be interested in," Rupert said, "but it doesn't really have to do with Brenna."

"What's that?"

"Lucy says that there's rumors of an underground movement growing to resist the takeovers of the outer—rim planets." Rupert looked up and grinned. "I've got a feeling that she knows more about those 'rumors' than she's telling."

"Possibly," Luke agreed. "The Academy was the spawning ground for one of the most active Resistance Movements during the Emperor's reign. But I don't see that there's much they can do right now. The attacks occur too sporadically to predict when and where they will happen next, so even if they do get a small fleet together, it'll be difficult to put it into action."

"Couldn't they help reclaim some of the planets that have already been taken?"

"Only if the planets _want_ them to. But most of the populaces are too scared to take a stand. If the resistance can find pockets of those who are willing to risk everything to fight Lippa, they might be able to do some good. But right now I suspect the whole movement is too small and isolated to accomplish much."

"So what can _we_ do?"

Luke looked at him. "We can get on with your lessons."

.

.

.

Brenna felt dead.

She went about her studies, went to classes, but it was all mechanical. The body moved, the mind was functional, but the spirit had died. She attended classes only because there was nothing else to do.

It was night. She was well ahead in her studies, so she decided to go for a walk. She might as well walk as do nothing.

Lucy had relayed her father's message to Brenna that morning. Well, if her father wanted her to drop some of her classes, she would, even if it meant she'd have to stay in school longer than she'd planned. If he wanted her to lower her grades, she would do that, too. She wouldn't apply for any more scholarships, either, if that was what he wanted. But she also wouldn't touch another cent of her tuition fund, if she could help it. There were other ways of paying one's own way through school besides scholarships. She'd heard there were some jobs open in the business office. Tomorrow, she would go apply for one.

She walked around the campus aimlessly, staying on the well—lit paths. R2—D2 rolled along beside her silently. It was a sad testament that her best friend on a planet full of students her own age was an astro—mech 'droid, a machine. And Artoo had learned early on that Brenna wasn't much interested in talking.

There was no point to this, really, but walking the fine line between light and darkness stirred a fear inside her, which was the closest feeling to being alive that she could achieve.

She thought briefly of her father, wondered if she should send a communication to him, telling him what she planned to do herself rather than through Lucy, but thinking about him only made her more depressed. Several of her male classmates had asked her out, but she had no real interest in that, either. There was nothing else left to do except walk.

As she made her way along the twisting garden path, she reflected that she ought to be more appreciative of the garden's beauty. Most of the plants were exotic enough that a single specimen would have cost more than a year's tuition. There were other students about, but Brenna hardly noticed them. It had been said that the fragrances of the plants were intoxicating, but Brenna hardly noticed that, either. She found that she couldn't care much one way or the other about the most talked—about feature of the campus. It was just a place where she could walk at night.

All at once, the lights along the path—in fact, everywhere that she could see—went out.

Brenna felt a surge of panic. Fear and disorientation pressed in against her. Around her, the other students on the path expressed surprised exclamations, but Brenna didn't hear them. Nor did she hear Artoo's worried whistles. Her ears were filled with a roar, and she was too frightened to even scream.

Artoo turned on a dim light on his dome, but it didn't help. Almost instinctively, Brenna reached out through the Force to locate the problem: a switch had been thrown in the main generator building. All it would take was a little kinetic energy, and there would be light again. She started to reach for the switch...

...And then remembered her promise to her father.

For a moment, she hesitated. She had given her word not to use the Force, but she had already used it without thinking, and neither she nor her father had foreseen a circumstance like this. Surely, an emergency like this was justification enough to make an exception. And it wouldn't take much energy. Just a simple mental push, and it would be done...

But before she could reach out to the switch, the lights came back on.

She breathed out in relief, and then smiled for the first time in ages. Now she could hear the laughter and voices of the other students on the path as they reacted to end of the blackout. For the first time, she noticed that the air was sweet with the scent of flowers. A soft laugh escaped from her, and she turned to go back to the dorm, feeling alive for the first time since she had arrived here.

Artoo beeped.

Brenna had long ago learned to translate the 'droid's language without the use of an interpreter. "No, Artoo, I'm fine." she replied.

And then a voice inside her head said, _That wasn't so bad, was it?_

Brenna froze as the voice filled her head. "Where are you?" she asked. She knew the 'who' already.

Artoo whistled an answer giving their location on the campus.

_I'm in your room, of course. It was extremely bright in here, but I've taken care of that for you. Didn't your father ever teach you to conserve energy?_

"What do you want?"

Artoo beeped a query. Who was she talking to? Brenna ignored it.

_I should think that much would be obvious. I want you. Frankly, my dear, if you were so intent on hiding from me, you could have chosen a better name to hide under than 'Snowe.' _

"Go to Hell."

_I probably will. In the meantime, I would like you to join me here in your room. We have much to discuss, not the least of which is the destruction of a certain Star Destroyer. Those things are hard to come by, you know, and that particular one had some unique modifications._

"I'm not interested."

_No? Just remember, I know exactly where you are, and I can create the darkness again any time I choose. The natural dawn will not occur for another twelve point five hours. There's no place for you to go. I can have the ports sealed as easily as I turned out the lights. So you see, there really is no choice. Now, unless you want me to come get you, and I assure you I will not be particular about who I have to hurt in order to do that, I suggest you come here. And I am not a patient man, so I also suggest you hurry._

_._

_._

_._

A few million light years away, in a different system, a different sun was already high in the planetary sky. Luke opened the door himself, not bothering with the enter chime. "Hello, Rupert. Are you ready for your next lesson?"

Rupert was confused. "Wha—I mean, hi. Yeah, I guess so."

"Yes or no, not 'I guess so.'"

"Well, yes, but...you don't have any animals in there."

Luke almost smiled. "I'm glad you noticed." Instead of letting Rupert in, Luke exited through the door and pulled it shut behind him. "We're going on a field trip today."

Rupert had to run a few steps to catch up with him. "What sort of 'field trip'?"

"We're going to the zoo."

Rupert stopped dead in his tracks. "The _zoo_?"

Luke turned. "Everyone loves the zoo, Rupert."

"Not me."

"How do you know? You've never been."

"Yes, I have. Mom tried to take me once. It was awful."

"I mean, you've never been when you could sort your impressions."

Rupert swallowed. "Luke, I don't think I can sort so many impressions at once. I can barely handle one at a time."

"Relax, Rupert. We're not after sorting individual impressions. Not yet, anyway. We're just going to practice keeping all the impressions at bay for a while."

"I'm...not sure I can do that for very long, either."

"That's one of the purposes of going. We'll see how long you _can_ do it, and then tomorrow, we'll try to extend that time. Believe me, Rupert, if I took you all the way like you've been begging me to do, most of the exercises would be a lot worse than this. Cheer up. I'll even buy you a bag of popcorn."

Rupert considered, then forced a smile. "Well, all right, then. But I want _two_ bags of popcorn. And cotton candy. And—"

It was nice to see that Rupert had a sense of humor, once he'd found his own personality. "Don't push your luck, Junior," Luke replied, borrowing a phrase from Rupert's father. "This is a training exercise, remember? I'm not—"

Luke stopped.

"Luke? What's wrong?"

Luke blinked. "It's Brenna. For a moment, I thought...never mind."

"What?"

"I felt...a ripple, like when Brenna was in trouble. It's gone now."

"You want me to ask Lucy to check on her?"

Luke nodded. "If you don't mind. Just ask her to be subtle about it, will you?"

.

.

.

"I don't want to go with you," Brenna said, pacing.

"It is inevitable. You know the prophecy. You cannot fight it."

"This is not the way it's supposed to be. The prophecy said that I would come to _you_, freely."

"And so you shall. But for the time being, I have come to you."

Brenna stopped pacing to look at him. "If you lay one finger on me, I swear, I'll kill you. The same goes if you get into my head like that again without my permission."

Lippa smiled. "My dear, you are being overly melodramatic. As I've already pointed out, the future is inevitable. There is no need for rape, either physical or mental, except, perhaps, as a recreational exercise. But you are too important for me to risk injuring accidentally. After all, we wouldn't want anything to happen to our offspring, would we? Now, pack your things—or better yet, leave them here. I have everything you need, and we are wasting valuable time with this idle chit—chat."

"I'm not going with you."

"Ah, but you _are_ coming with me. It's just a question of whether you will come on your own initiative, or not."

Brenna sat down on her bed and picked up the doll she kept there. She had long outgrown dolls, and the few she'd kept for sentimental reasons back on Tatooine had been destroyed along with compound. She had no particular attachments to this one which she had bought as a decoration. But it was something to hold onto. "What about my father?" she asked.

Lippa sighed. "What about him?"

"He isn't just going to sit still and let you kidnap me."

"Your father," Lippa said, "beyond the fact that he sired you, is an inconsequential nuisance. I shall squash him as I would an insect. If you please me, I may even let you watch."

Brenna put the doll back where it had been and stood up again. "As you dealt with the others?"

Lippa laughed.

Brenna resumed pacing for a moment, then stopped. "You want me to go with you without a fight?"

"I would prefer it."

"Then I'll make a deal with you. If you swear not to touch me or get into my head without permission, and not to hurt my father, I'll go with you peacefully."

"Brenna, my dear, you've outgrown him. You came here to get _away_ from him, remember?"

"That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

Lippa shook his head. "I don't like ultimatums, or to leave unfinished business. You and I both know that I could just take you."

"But not willingly. Besides, you just said yourself that my father was no threat to you. 'An inconsequential nuisance,' you called him."

Lippa sighed. "Very well. As long as he remains harmless to me, I'll leave him alone. Or for you to deal with."

"And the rest. Not to touch me or get into my head without permission. Do you swear?"

"I swear. Now, my dear, shall we be off?"

.

.

.

Two days later, Lucy's reply message arrived, emergency priority. Brenna had simply vanished from the Academy, and no one had seen any trace of her that day or the day before. It took a while to even discover her disappearance because Brenna kept so much to herself, no one even really noticed that she was gone until Lucy started making inquiries. Luke immediately called Leia to cancel his lessons with Rupert and asked her to locate the fastest transportation she could find to the Academy. When Rupert learned the reason for the cancellation, he volunteered to take Luke in the _Falcon_. Meanwhile, Lucy took advantage of some of the skills _her_ father had taught her, and hot—wired the lock to get into Brenna's room. But there was nothing to be seen inside.

Lucy and an Academy official met Luke and Rupert at the docking bay. The obsequious Denoid politely explained that Brenna fit the profile of the over—achiever runaway, and had most likely "burned out." No doubt she would turn up back home shortly. In any case, the Academy was not liable for damages as a result of her disappearance, since the school had always done everything in its power to insure the safety of its students. Luke finally got rid of the official by signing a document that said he would not bring any undue publicity onto the Academy as a result of this matter, provided the Academy cooperated fully with the investigation into Brenna's disappearance. Then the Denoid gave Luke the master code to access the security records for Brenna's room, and left. But the only unauthorized entry on record was when Lucy broke into the room to check on Brenna. Nor was there anything in Brenna's private computer files to indicate where she might have gone.

Lucy shook her head. "I'm sorry, Uncle Luke. This is exactly the way I found her room. I haven't touched a thing."

Luke looked around the spotless room helplessly. There was nothing, not even Artoo, no clue to testify about what had happened. Brenna's clothes were the hanging neatly in the closet or folded in the dresser. The only other trace of her was a duplicate of the old doll she had treasured as a child, propped up against the pillow of her bed, undisturbed. There wasn't even a wall—hanging or decoration to give the room any other sense of presence.

"Do you think the blackout had anything to do with it?" Rupert asked.

"I'm almost positive it did," Luke replied. "Lippa must have arranged it."

"Are you sure he took her? I mean, look at this place. I've seen Brenna fight. If he was kidnapping her, wouldn't she have put up a struggle?"

"She's with him," Luke said, looking away again. "But I can't feel her. I don't know what's he's doing to her."

"Would you know if—?" Rupert left his question unfinished, but Luke knew what he meant.

"I don't know," Luke answered. "There was a time when I would've known without a doubt. But she's closed off to me now."

"What do we do?" Rupert asked. "Shouldn't we go after her?"

Luke ran his hands through his hair. "It's not that easy, Rupert. I don't know where they are. I can feel Lippa's disturbance in the Force, but I can't localize it. He's too far away."

"What about Brenna? Can't you communicate with her, get her to tell you where she is?"

"I could, _if_ she were trained, and _if_ she wanted to establish a telepathic link. I've been trying Rupert. But I can't reach her. She either _can't_ answer, or doesn't _want_ to."

"Then how do you know for sure she's with Lippa?"

Luke looked at him. "Lippa wants me to know." He looked around the room again. There was nothing of interest. Then he thumbed through Brenna's clothes in the closet, pulled open the drawers and then closed them one at a time, barely glancing at the contents. Then he turned to leave, and as an afterthought, picked up the doll that was on the bed to take with him.

A small piece of paper fluttered to the bed. Luke's brows furrowed as he picked it up. There was something written on it, in Brenna's handwriting.

"What's it say?" Rupert asked.

"It says...'I'm sorry.'"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

And, Student, now Teacher,

_Look to the back_

_Of Force—painted armor _

_With an emblem of Black._

_._

_For Light means hope, _

_And Shadow blocks Light._

_The brighter the Sun,_

_The darker the Night._

_._

"Your father disappoints me," Lippa said.

"Oh?" Brenna asked, around a mouthful of Racturian seafood. She had to admit, whatever else Etan Lippa was, he was a good host. She hadn't wanted for anything by the way of comforts.

"I thought he would at least be searching for you by now," Lippa went on. "My spies tell me he's still on Coruscant."

Brenna forked another bite of the shellfish into her mouth. "I told you he wouldn't be that stupid."

"Ah, yes. After I reminded you of the exact wording of our agreement. As long as he remains a non-threat to me, I will leave him be. That, of course, would change if he were to try to take you from me."

"As I said, he's not that stupid."

"Or is it that you just don't see the alternative reason for his lack of activity?"

"What alternative reason?"

"That he doesn't love you enough to rescue you."

Brenna stopped in mid-bite. After a moment, she murmured, "You're wrong."

"Am I?" Lippa asked. "If you were mine—which you are, now—I would move worlds to get you back. Yet your father has done nothing. What other explanation could there be?"

Brenna dropped her fork, her appetite gone. "My father loves me!"

"Then why isn't he here? Why has he never given you the training you crave? I can give it to you, Brenna. I _will_ give it to you, if you just say the word."

"My father was protecting me."

"Against what? Have you been in any danger? Have I given you any reason to fear me?"

"You kidnapped me, took me away by force."

"What a terrible pun. And you came along willingly, remember? Besides, my dear, I was merely rescuing you from an unwelcome prison, into which your father placed you." Lippa laughed. "Come, at least be honest with _yourself_. You didn't really _enjoy_ the Academy, did you?"

Brenna looked away.

"_Did _you?" Lippa pressed.

"No," Brenna murmured. "No, I hated it."

"And every time you excelled, every time you tried to show everyone just how special you are, what did your father do?"

"He held me back," Brenna admitted.

Lippa smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Exactly," he said. "He held you back."

.

.

.

"Good," Luke murmured, but without enthusiasm. "You've increased your time to almost three hours." It was the last three minutes, however, when Rupert was most exhausted, that the worst problem occurred. Luke had had to whisk Rupert away from there as quickly as he could.

Rupert was practically trembling in his arms. "So many..." he murmured. "So many impressions..."

"But you're learning to hold them off." Luke replied soothingly. He stroked the boy's head, not caring who was watching them on the public transportation. Rupert needed security right now, and until Luke could get Rupert back to Leia, he was the best source of that.

"Luke, I—" his voice trailed off.

"Yes? What is it?"

Rupert drew in a shaky breath, then pulled away. He was embarrassed—not about being held like a child, but by something else entirely. He looked straight ahead, not at his teacher, but with eyes that were haunted. "The bamors."

Luke nodded. "Yes, I know. It was feeding time for them."

"They—sweet Deities, Luke, it...you don't know what it was like."

"They're carnivores, Rupert. It's in their nature. That's what they do. Just remember that you're not one of them. It's _their_ nature, not yours."

"But the way they...kill..."

"They provide a balance. Out in the wild, the bamors thin out overpopulated herds of risnoks. If it weren't for the bamors, the riskins‑‑‑_all_ of them‑‑‑would starve to death from overgrazing."

"Yes, but..."

"But, what? You're not a bamor. You're not a risnok, either. You're a human being. You're on one side of the barrier, and the animals are on the other. _You_ get to _choose_ your behavior. They don't."

"Not when they're in a cage." Rupert was confused, shifting the source of his anxiety from what it actually was.

Luke shrugged. "Their 'cages' are as close to humans can come to providing them with their natural habitats and still be able to view them on a regular basis. And there are compensations. They get food regularly, they're in no danger of starvation, they get to live comfortably in environments specially suited to their needs, they live longer than they would in the wild—the only drawbacks are, they don't get to migrate, and they get stared at a lot, by a lot of people they can't even see."

Rupert was quiet for a moment. Luke was right. The animals were...not happy, exactly, but better off than they might be under other circumstances.

The quiet moment gave him time to calm, and he realized something. "Did you...do that on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Plan...on purpose...to be there at mealtime."

"No," Luke replied. "Not exactly. I knew that it _would_ happen eventually, but not that it would happen _today_, or with the bamors, or at the end of our visit—no, I didn't know that. But I think...tomorrow we _will_ be there...on purpose. And I think that's probably the only thing we'll get to. So rest up. Try not to think about it. Go commune with your krail, or something."

"Do we have to? I mean, can't we...wait a while, at least?"

"We _are_ waiting a while. We're waiting until tomorrow. Just remember, Rupert, that pet snake of yours is a carnivore. When it reaches adulthood, it's going to have to eat something besides saucers of milk. You're bonded to it. That means the feeding, when it happens, is going to be more intense than anything you might have felt today."

Rupert accepted the warning without further comment. But there was something else on his mind. "What about—what about Brenna? Can't we do something?"

Luke drew himself up straight, and had to work to keep his anger at Rupert's question under control. "I'm open to suggestions, Rupert. I've got your mother using all her connections with intelligence to try to locate Etan Lippa, and to try to round up whatever ships the fleet can spare. I spend most of the time when I'm not with you studying his attack patterns, looking for some clue to where he might be, or where he might hit next. If you have _any_ ideas on where I can go, or what else I can do to try to find her, I would _really_ appreciate hearing them."

"Sorry," Rupert murmured. "I'm...sorry."

It occurred to Rupert a moment later that those were the exact words of Brenna's last message to Luke, and he regretted the apology as soon as that thought registered. Luke was doing nothing except helping him, and he was returning the favor with pain.

.

.

.

Brenna did a twirl in front of her audience. "What do you think?" she asked. The gown she was wearing shimmered, then changed colors.

Etan Lippa's appreciation was evident in his smile. "My dear, you _are_ lovely."

Brenna circled again, grinning at the way the iridescent fabric floated around her and changed colors. "Where in the thousand systems did you get this dress?"

"I had it made for you, of course. It's a Pegnati original. Do you like it?"

"Like it? I _love_ it! Is it really a Peg?"

"It really is. If you love it so much, I shall have to commission more from Mr. Pegnati. But, of course, the dress cannot compare to the beauty of the one wearing it."

Brenna's clear laughter filled the room. "You know, you are _nothing_ like I imagined you to be."

"Of course not. What little you knew about me was tainted by the perspective your father gave." Lippa stepped back to admire the view, and Brenna obligingly made another twirl. "You must wear that for dinner tomorrow night."

Brenna's expression changed to a frown. "But I...was hoping to wear it to dinner _tonight_."

Etan Lippa shrugged. "You may, of course, but I will not be there to enjoy it."

"Why not?"

Lippa kissed her on the cheek. "My dear, as much as I would love to do nothing more than sit and drink in your beauty over a delicious meal, alas, I must attend to business."

"Let me come with you."

Lippa smiled and shook his head. "One day, my love, I promise you will be privvy to all things. But what I have to do tonight, untrained as you are, you are not ready for."

Brenna tossed fitfully in her sleep, then woke. For a fleeting moment, she felt a shadow of a Dark Presence covering her, like a blanket, but by the time she became fully awake and ordered "Lights!" the presence was gone. The sensation was so fleeting, she almost couldn't be certain it was real, but it put her on her guard. She told the lights to dim to twenty percent, lay back down, and forced herself to relax. Then she decided to try a little experiment, something she had used with her father, a technique she had taught herself, to make her father think she was asleep when she really wasn't. After a while, the faint presence returned. She knew who it was, of course, and what it meant. Etan had returned. And this intrusion was meant to be undetectable. But apparently her awareness of it was undetectable to Etan, or he would never risk showing her this much, risk showing her how he was breaking his promise.

Interesting.

Brenna let the images wash over her and unfold, curious to know what he wanted her to see, but not letting them penetrate more than a surface level. The pictures were dark, with heavy sexual overtones. It was so predictable that Brenna almost laughed. She considered for a moment what her response should be, then decided on fear. Fear, with just a touch of excitement. Let him think she was responding in her "dream-state."

The cloud-presence seemed pleased. It lingered until Brenna decided she'd had enough. She imagined herself transitioning from a dream-state to full consciousness, and allowed that feeling to emanate. The presence vanished.

And Brenna was suddenly glad she hadn't pushed the light switch, back at the Academy.

Perhaps, after all, Etan Lippa wasn't the only one with a secret.

.

.

.

Brenna came to a decision. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was the only choice she could make. Up to now there were only two players in the game: Etan Lippa and her father. Between the two, Etan Lippa had the better position, the better pieces. Her father had only himself—and Rupert, if a novice creature—empath counted, which she doubted. She had tried to stay out of the game, like her father wanted, but Etan Lippa had drawn her into it. Like it or not, she was a player. The only question was how she would utilize the pieces she had.

Currently, the only pieces she had were herself, and Artoo, and a little gizmo she'd picked up at the Academy.

Brenna took a deep breath and started to press the buzzer, but the door opened even before she touched it.

"H—how did you know I was here?" she asked.

Etan Lippa smiled. "I felt your presence. You'll find that the Force will tell you many things. But that is why you're here, isn't it? To begin your training?"

Brenna frowned. "Yes, but…how did you know? You promised not to get in my head."

"My dear, it was inevitable that you would come to your senses. Shall we begin?"

.

.

.

"You're not concentrating," Luke said.

"Should I run through my exercises again?"

Luke rubbed his forehead tiredly. "If you like. But do them on your own today, will you?"

"What's wrong?" Rupert asked. "It's not—Lippa hasn't hurt Brenna, has he?"

Luke closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. "Not physically. But I think he's found another form of revenge on me."

"How's that?"

"He's training her." Luke drew in a ragged breath and let it out again. "Sweet Force, Rupert. He's teaching her the ways of the Dark Side."

.

.

.

"Here you are," Lippa said, handing her the disc.

"I want everything," Brenna said. "Every piece of information that was ever recorded about the Jedi or the Sith Lords"

"You will find that to be a complete account.

"I want everything that _you_ know, as well."

"I am at your disposal. Simply tell me where you would like me to begin."

"Tell me what's _not_ printed in the records."

"I will be delighted to answer any question you may ask me."

Brenna made her hand into a fist and pounded it against her leg for several seconds as she considered what to ask first. Then she said, "You knew my mother, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what she was like."

"Ah. First show me how much you've learned. Raise that table over there."

Brenna waved an impatient hand towards the indicated table. It rose two feet into the air, and wobbled there for a few seconds until she lowered it again.

"Excellent. Your mother was quite a lovely creature. She wasn't nearly as strong with the Force as your father, but she more than made up for it in other ways. She was, however, just as deceived about him as you were. I tried to rescue her, but she mistook my intentions. Her death was most unfortunate."

"What was her talent? You said every Force—sensitive has one talent that stands out from the others."

"I believe she was something of a telepath, like her father. She was able to communicate with _your_ father telepathically, at any rate. Beyond that, I have no idea. She died before I had the chance to properly explore her abilities."

"And my father?"

"A very powerful telekinetic, and something of a telepath, himself. He may also have a little bit of sight, though not enough to matter. _His_ father was the same, and I suspect _you_ may have inherited some telepathic abilities in addition to the telekinesis. It is, however, too soon to know for certain."

"What about you?"

Etan Lippa smiled. "I, like _my_ father, am a man of many talents. I am every bit the telekinetic that your father is, and more. I am also a Force-conduit. A transformer, if you will. I can take one kind of Force-energy, and transform it into another. I am also a dominant telepath, as you already know."

"So you have _three_ dominant talents?"

"I have that honor, yes."

"If you're a telepath, tell me what I'm thinking."

"I shall take that request as permission to 'enter your head,' without breaking our agreement… My dear, your thoughts are quite unfocused. You must learn to control them, become more focused. You are primarily interested in learning about the Force. You have a thirst, which you have before not been able to slake, but now find that you may indulge in."

"What else?"

"As I said, your thoughts are too unfocused. See if you can focus them on your reading." Lippa kissed her hand, and left.

Brenna turned to her console, with a slight furrow between her brows. "My thoughts aren't as unfocused as all that," she murmured to herself.

Then she smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_The path filled with hope_

_Or the path filled with dread;_

_The riddle of Life_

_Is solved by the Dead._

_ ._

_The Dark Path once trodden_

_Dominates destiny,_

_And the path that is chosen_

_Dominates prophecy._

.

Brenna opened the door using a code she had obtained. It wasn't the only code she had, but it had been the easiest to get and therefore was also the most expendable if anything went wrong. If she needed to explain how she got it, she would simply tell the truth and say she had watched one of Lippa's guards when he punched it in.

She was alone right now. Artoo was in the communications section, using the more valuable code she had in her possession. In fact, that was one reason why she was here now instead of later. She liked to have a contingency plan, and it was more likely that if Artoo were detected, Etan would focus his attention on _her_ transgression than on a slight breach in communications protocol.

This was the section of the ship Etan had forbidden her to enter. It housed the area of most interest to her: the security system servers. Not that she expected to be able to just stand by and watch someone enter the codes for the servers, but she had a nifty little device acquired from one of her fellow students at the Academy. It recorded movement but had such a small electronic profile that it was impervious to scan.

Brenna had acquired the toy immediately after the would-be peeping Tom had planted it in her room back at the Academy, and now it was a game piece, _her_ game piece. It was a recording device only, not a transmitter, small enough not to be noticeable, and with a signature so weak it was undetectable to security scanners. Brenna hadn't noticed it when the student had planted it, and wouldn't have noticed it had it not been for Artoo's vigilance and the attention to details that her father had programmed into it. She'd kept the recording crystal and gotten instructions in its use in exchange for not turning the perpetrator in. She had also recognized the genius behind the gadget and gotten the name of the brilliant student who had invented it, a fellow engineering student two years her senior and previous winner of the scholarship she had received. Brenna was well acquainted with the skills of Jaff Wissain. He was something of a legend. Rumor had it that he was the only one who had ever penetrated Academy security, and Brenna had reason to know it was true. The prank had been harmless enough. Wissain had only wanted to see if he could do it, had only done it for the challenge. But _she_ had the toy now, and she intended to be anything but harmless.

Maybe she was only doing this herself now, playing the game, for the challenge. She didn't really know why she had decided to be a player. At any rate, she had studied the schematics for Star Destroyers long before Etan Lippa had come to the Academy. She opened the door and made her way to the security area, avoiding scrutiny thanks to the uniform she had swiped from the locker room. She waited for the scanning camera to turn away, then positioned the crystal in a crevice on the wall opposite the door, where it could pick up the code pad. Once she got the code to the door, she'd get inside and get the code to the server itself. She figured it would take two days, tops.

The crystal in place, she decided to do a little exploration. The schematics indicated medical facilities and officers' quarters, but there was no telling what Etan actually used those areas for.

She headed towards the medical areas first. Muffled sounds drew her attention to a door. Someone on the other side was in pain. And…Etan was there, too. She could sense his presence.

Brenna suddenly knew what was happening on the other side of the closed door, and she opened it without thinking.

Etan Lippa was furious. "I forbade this sector for a reason. You were not ready for that."

"Torturing helpless old men? I didn't think that was your style, Etan."

"For your information, that 'helpless old man' was the head of Tahl Securities. Perhaps you've heard of them?"

Brenna frowned. "No…"

"Tahl Securities provides and maintains most of the security systems for the independent worlds. Can you imagine how much less bloodshed there would be if I had the security access codes for those systems?"

"Oh," said Brenna, contritely.

"Your intrusion caused me to lose concentration. If I had obtained those codes before he died, countless lives would have been saved."

"Well, it's too bad he died, then. But tell me, the fact that you were having to torture the old man must mean that you weren't able to read his mind?"

Lippa sighed. "My dear, I can't be using my powers all the time. As you have probably discovered with your own abilities, using them causes a drain, and you have to replenish from time to time. But this is beside the point. The point is, I expressly forbade you from entering this sector, and you disobeyed me."

"Oh, puh-leez," Brenna said. "You sound just like my father. What the Hell do you expect of me? You keep me cooped up all day in a tiny corner of the ship and expect me to be happy as a zondark. Well, guess what? It's _bor—ring_. You're gone all day playing with your soldier—toys, and I've got nothing to do while you're out having all the fun. Well, I don't do that. I was hoping, when I went with you, that at least you'd make life a little _interesting_."

"If you're bored, my dear, you can practice those exercises I gave you. Or perhaps I can find other ways to make your life…less boring." He traced a finger down her cheek suggestively.

Brenna smiled. "I'm never bored when you're around, Etan, but you're never around."

"If I could be with you every minute of every day, I would. But I can't."

"And that," said Brenna, "is precisely my point. If I had something to do, it wouldn't be so bad. Isn't there _some_thing around here I can help you with?"

Etan sat down on a corner of the table where the old man's corpse was strapped, and spread his hands. "I am open to suggestion."

At that moment, the intercom buzzed for attention, and rose again with a sigh to answer it. "Yes, what is it?"

"Sir," said the voice on the other end, "Communications reports a slight systems malfunction. One of the sub-stations apparently went off-line temporarily."

"See?" Brenna said. "_There's_ something I could help you with. I could take care of problems like that for you. It would give me something to do."

"My dear, you don't need to be worrying your pretty little head over that."

Brenna groaned and leaned back against the wall. "Nothing to do, like I said. Well, let me see, I saw an interesting-looking area back the other way from the entry alcove, marked, 'Secure area.' Might be fun to see just _how_ secure it is. Since I have all this time on my hands."

Lippa laughed. "All right, my dear, you may handle this little problem for me. But I will expect a full report."

"Of course," Brenna replied.

"I trust you can find your way out as easily as you found your way in? Even with your help, there are matters that demand my attention."

He kissed Brenna's cheek and whispered in her ear, "Do try to stay out of the restricted areas, will you? I assure you, I _will _ have them monitored."

Brenna closed her eyes when he had gone. She'd been wrong—wrong about Etan Lippa, wrong about her father, and especially wrong about herself. She'd done something that no one else, not even Etan Lippa, knew about, and it would change her forever. She had started down a path from which there could be no turning back, done something which could not be undone.

Tonight she had passed the point of no return. Tonight, she had taken the first step in making the prophecy a reality.

Tonight, she had killed a man.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Will the Teacher, the Creature,_

_The Mate of the Beast_

_Stand as foes in the battle,_

_Or join at the feast?_

_._

_But if a teacher_

_To student will yield,_

_Creature and Child_

_Protected by Shield._

_._

Lippa nodded approvingly. "You're progressing very rapidly. Much faster than I expected."

"What, this?" Brenna switched off her lightsaber and waved an arm at the seeker. "This is boring."

"I can arrange for _human_ targets."

"Not enough challenge," Brenna said.

Lippa raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you would like to battle _me_."

Brenna considered. "Now there's a thought," she said.

"My dear, I won't allow it. Not that I doubt the prophecy, but I do not want to risk injury to either of us that might affect our offspring."

Brenna sighed. "It's so dull here."

Lippa lifted her blonde hair with his hand. "I could liven things up for you."

"Not yet, Etan. The time...is not right."

Lippa let his hand drop. "I am open to suggestions."

Brenna paced like a caged animal. "I need something more to do. All this—it's pointless. I'm accomplishing nothing."

"What would you prefer to do?"

Brenna shook her head, continuing her prowl back and forth. "I don't know. Something that—" She stopped suddenly, thinking. Then she smiled. "Yes..."

"What?"

Brenna turned to him. "Croyus Four. You've captured it."

"Yes. So?"

"So let me run it for you. What better task for me than to follow in the footprints of my namesake? You will need a way to dispose of prisoners, and an efficient system to process them for information. That _was_ your intention in capturing Croyus Four, was it not?"

"My dear, you _are_ perceptive. But are you sure you're ready for this."

"More than ready. It is...my destiny?" She smiled, but Lippa didn't smile back.

"Prove it," Lippa said.

"All right," Brenna said. She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Take me back to the Academy."

"What?"

"You want proof that I can handle this? I'll give you proof. How about, for my first prisoner of Croyus Four, I give you the leader of the Resistance movement?"

.

.

.

"Here's something that may interest you," Rupert said, handing Luke the holo—disc.

"What's that?"

"Brenna isn't the only one who's disappeared."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"Three standard days ago, a sociology student named Devon Martuk disappeared. He, uh, was rumored to be one of the leaders of the resistance."

Luke registered that fact. "Anyone else?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. A bio-chem student named Trevis Finn has been missing since about the same time. Lucy says it's not known if he was actually a part of the resistance, but his friends say he was at least sympathetic to it."

"Anyone else?"

"No, just those two."

Luke thought for a moment. "Do you think Lucy could find me some more information on Martuk and Finn? Talk to their friends, get me a copy of their academic records, whatever she can do?"

Rupert nodded. "I'll ask her."

"Rue—"

Rupert turned back.

"Priority status. Don't spare the credits."

.

.

.

Brenna was sealing a connection in the chair's circuitry when Lippa entered the room. "The generators are on-line," she said without looking up from her work. "All security systems are operational."

"Excellent. I see you're still playing with your little toy."

Brenna spared him a glance. "It's a delicate piece of equipment. Somebody, somewhere along the line, disassembled it. It's part of the Croyus Four tradition. I wouldn't want it to malfunction at the wrong time‑‑‑kill a prisoner too early, for example."

"True. How are the barracks coming?"

"Just about finished." Brenna straightened and put her tool back in its place in the toolbox. "Your Corporal Garm is most efficient."

"And our 'guests'?"

"I think my little 'toy' is ready for testing. Let's try it out, shall we?"

"Who would you like first?"

"Martuk," Brenna said.

.

.

.

Rupert hesitated, then knocked lightly. Luke answered almost immediately.

"I've been going over these reports that Lucy got for me," Luke said. "Did you know that Martuk and Finn had something else in common besides the Resistance? They were both top in their classes."

"That's not so surprising," Rupert said. "If they were leaders in the Resistance, they would have to be intelligent and hard-working." He hesitated, then said, "I found Brenna, Luke."

"Me, too," Luke said. "Croyus Four."

"You heard?"

"How could I miss it. The delivery of Martuk's remains to his family with that message 'Courtesy of Brenna Brellis, Croyus Four' is being splashed all over the news media."

"It can't be her, Luke. Lippa must've done it and signed Brenna's name to it."

"It doesn't seem like his style, but I can't believe the alternative."

"So what do we do now? Do we go to Croyus Four?"

Luke let out a long breath. "That's exactly what Lippa wants us to do. That much, at least, I know. We have to sit tight here, and wait."

"She's your own daughter, Luke."

"I know. And sitting here, doing nothing, is killing me."

.

.

.

"My dear," said Lippa, "that was a stroke of genius, sending Martuk back like that."

Brenna smiled. "By making him the first execution of Croyus Four, I've not only removed the first seed of resistance, but by sending him back in a way that would attract the media, I've also instilled fear into the hearts of many would—be rebels."

"True," said Lippa. "Very true. I have only one criticism about the whole thing."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You ended it much too quickly."

Brenna frowned. "I'll try to do better next time."

"Ah, yes, the young Mr. Finn. Perhaps I should demonstrate on him for you."

"That wouldn't be a bad idea, except..."

"Except, what?"

Brenna shrugged. "Well, this place used to be a chemically operated termination center. Finn was the top bio-chem student in his class, and a Resistance sympathizer. I thought it would be fitting to force—if you'll pardon the pun—him to work as a technician."

Lippa smiled. "You _do_ have a sense for poetic justice. But there is still your education to consider."

Brenna ran her finger along Lippa's arm. "Well, you'll just have to get me some more prisoners."

"Mmmm. It would be my pleasure. But I don't wish to leave you alone just yet. I'll have to turn Croyus Four into a temporary base of operations."

"From _always_ leaving me alone to _never_ leaving me alone. It's either feast or famine with you, Etan. But isn't Croyus Four awfully far from the outer systems you need."

"No matter."

Brenna laughed. "I've already told you, my father won't come."

"Perhaps not, but I won't take unnecessary risks. It would, however, be so much easier if you would just release me from that absurd promise. Then, instead of waiting for him to come here, we could be done with it."

"When the time is right, I'll deal with my father myself. But right now...I'm not ready."

"No," Lippa agreed. "You've progressed quickly, but it's still early, for all that. Which is why I intend to stay right by your side until I am _sure_ that you are ready."

.

.

.

"Luke!"

"I just heard, Rupert."

"Sweet Force, Luke. Two hundred thousand prisoners sent to Croyus Four for execution. You don't really think she'll do it?" The last was half question, half plea. Rupert couldn't quite believe it, and wanted reassurance that it wasn't real.

"I don't know," Luke said.

"We have to go after her."

"We can't. Not yet."

Rupert shook his head in denial. "How can you say that? She's your _daughter_!"

"Lippa's with her. We wouldn't stand a chance."

"But Brenna—"

"I know, Rupert. But there's no organized fleet we can call on for back-up. There's just the two of us. And Lippa is...incredibly powerful, more so than his father. He could kill both of us with a thought, and he's not going to leave Brenna alone for an instant."

"But the longer we let it go, the more likely it is that we'll never turn her back."

"I don't see any alternative." Luke said sadly. "I wish I did. I wish I could turn back time, and keep her from going to the Academy. But we've got to deal with the present, and the present facts are that we're neither one of us a match for Etan Lippa. Trust me on this, Rupert."

"But—"

"I know. It's Brenna."

.

.

.

Brenna dangled the computer record from her fingertips. "For you," she said.

"What is it?"

"The names of all the Resistance personnel in the Mordaan system."

Lippa took it without looking at her, then tossed it unconcerned to the other side of the room.

"Hey!"

"It's useless to me."

"You said you wanted information! This was the most valuable information I could get!"

"The Resistance does not concern me," Lippa said. He turned to face her, and smiled. "You, however, do. My dear, it is not the product of your efforts that concerns me so much as the process."

"So my gifts mean nothing to you."

"I have no doubts that you will at some point obtain information that will be valuable to me. But the Mordaan system is inconsequential. Acclimating you to your new responsibilities is more important. The fact that you were able to persuade our guests to give you the information is what counts. Your handling of that end of the operation is commendable. However, other aspects of your administration are inexcusably sloppy."

Brenna frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lippa waved a hand at the computer screen. "I've been looking at these financial reports."

"I stayed within the budget you allotted me."

"Yes, but five hundred credits on food for the _prisoners_? My dear, that is an unnecessary expense."

"I disagree. I knew it would be some time before I finished interrogating them all, so I—"

"So you _fed_ them? I must say, I'm very disappointed—"

"—Let me finish. I fed _some_ of them. I wondered what the reaction would be if a few of the prisoners got food and the rest didn't. So I experimented."

"And you found that the ones you gave the food to refused to eat it."

"How did you know?"

"My dear, I could have told you that they would, if you had simply asked me. Did you learn anything else?"

"I..."

"Yes?"

"When I got no reaction from my initial experiment, I changed some of the parameters."

"Oh?"

"I separated the prisoners so that they wouldn't be able to see each other directly, and had my personal chef prepare a few...appetizing dishes, heavy in aroma. Whether the subjects actually ate or not was immaterial. I had it appear as if they did. Both the designated "eaters" and "watchers" were sixty-five percent more likely to reveal information sooner than members of the control group."

"How much sooner?"

"Fifteen centi-units in standard time."

"That's not much time."

"It is, under full intensity conditions."

"I see. Well, I suppose an apology is in order. You do seem to be using that apportionment wisely. However, this category for 'miscellaneous expenses' is far too ambiguous. I want to be able to trace every credit to its source."

"_Every_ credit?"

"You will find that attention to detail is crucial to any successful operation. Now, since this is all new to you, I will make allowances this one time. However, I expect all future reports to be more explicit in their information."

"Yes, Etan," Brenna said.

.

.

.

Luke opened the door at Rupert's knock and swept an arm to usher Rupert inside. Rupert entered and saw that the room was decorated, and his favorite vegetarian foods were laid out on the table.

Rupert grinned. "What's this?"

Luke put an arm around the boy's shoulder and led him to a chair at the table. "Congratulations, Rupert," he said. "You've graduated."

"Graduated?" Rupert sat down, still wearing his grin.

"Yup," Luke replied. "You're at the point where you don't need me anymore. Stay away from the jungle worlds like Endor, make it a point to visit the zoo once a month or so to stay in practice, avoid meats, and you'll be fine. No more weirding-out—you'll notice you haven't done that in some time now—no more doctors, no more medications, and no insane asylum. Just a relatively normal, relatively happy life."

Rupert piled a load of food on his plate. "Great! So when do we go after Brenna?"

Luke shook his head. "There is no 'we,' Rupert."

Rupert's fork was frozen between the plate and his mouth. "What do you mean, no 'we'?"

"Rupert…I promised your father that I would only take you this far. Far enough to keep your sanity. No further. You're at that point now. When I go after Brenna, I'll go alone."

Rupert set the fork down, his appetite gone. "No! That's what—That's the only thing that made all those trips to the zoo bearable, thinking of her! Knowing that I had to be in control before I could do anything to help her!"

Luke inhaled deeply. He had to make the boy see the truth. "She's not your mate, Rupert."

"Not now, but‑‑‑"

"Not now. Not ever. Find yourself another girl. You're at the point where you _can_ mate, but not with Brenna. I'm not saying this just as Brenna's father, but also as your friend. Don't you remember how she treated you before she went to the Academy? She doesn't want you."

Rupert shook his head in denial. "But back on Tatooine—You don't know what it was like then. She wasn't afraid of me. She taught me—I'd never even kissed a girl before. I never weirded-out when I was with her. She's—she's the mate I want."

"But she doesn't want _you_. The sooner you accept that and move on, the better off you'll be. It's not too late for you to choose a new girl, as long as you're honest with her about what you are, and stay away from places with heavy animal populations, but Brenna isn't the one."

"No! Don't you see? It doesn't matter if she doesn't want me back. I still have to do everything I can to save her!"

Luke sighed and put a hand on the boy's arm. "Rupert, a fully-trained Jedi couldn't get past Etan Lippa to get to her, and you're not even close to that. There is _nothing_ you can do."

"So train me! Then there'd be _two_ Jedi Knights to save her."

"Believe me, nothing would please me more than to storm in there, grab Brenna, have you two marry and live happily ever after. But the sad truth is, it's not going to happen. Even if we could get past Lippa, I don't think she _wants_ to be saved. Besides, the chances of you coming through the full training with your sanity intact are not all that good."

Rupert looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Luke sat down opposite him at the table. "Let me tell you what it would be like for you to go all the way. In order to control a creature, you first have to _become_ the creature. And then you have to un-become, go back to being human. Being a fully-trained creature-empath means being able to 'weird-out' on demand, and then pull out of it immediately, on your own. It's called 'going into the Chasm.' It's not blocking, like I've taught you; it's overcoming. If you think the zoo on Coruscant was hard, that was a piece of cake compared to the rest of it. We'd go to a jungle world. You'd be able to hold off the empathic impressions for a while, but not indefinitely. You _would_ go down into the chasm, Rupert. The only question is whether you could pull yourself back out. Only a small percentage of the creature-empaths who tried to go all the way succeeded. You're unmated. That means you'd have about a ten percent chance of making it through. Even if you were mated, those odds would only increase to maybe twenty percent. If _Yoda_ were alive to train you, those would be the odds. But you're stuck with _me_. That means there's a _greater_ than ninety percent chance that you wouldn't make it. You'd become an animal, everything you're afraid of. If—_if_—your human side can overcome your animal instincts, _then_ you would have to learn control, be able to go down into the chasm and then pull yourself back up in an instant. As I said, it's a slim chance you'll come out of the experience as anything resembling a human."

"What…happened to the ones who didn't make it?"

"They either died as wild creatures, or were institutionalized in an insane asylum. Only one person ever came back from being feral, but he was so extraordinary in other ways that Deities only know how he was able to do it. Rupert…there's no test I can do to know if you'd be one of the few who made it, or one of the majority who didn't. So count yourself lucky to have made it this far. You can have a good life. You can even take a mate if you remember what I told you. But I won't take you the rest of the way. Even if you were willing to take the risk, _I'm_ not."

"Luke, I'm…I love her. Brenna."

"Because of one kiss?" Luke shook his head. "Find yourself another girl, Rupert."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

_Prophetic enigma,_

_When Darkness rules Sight,_

_And Shadows rule Jedi_

_Eclipsed from the Light._

_._

_A Dark Prophet's profit_

_Is Prophecy's might,_

_And the eyes of the Seer_

_See only the Night._

.

The door buzzed impatiently. "All right, all right!" Han said, shuffling over to answer it.

The door buzzed again.

Han looked at the peeper-monitor. "Hold your—" He stopped. "Luke?" He pressed the unlock button, and the door slid open immediately.

"Where's Rupert?" Luke asked, entering without an invitation.

"He's not with you? He told me the two of you were going camping."

"Put a freeze on the _Falcon_, Han. _Now_."

"I can't do that. The registry's in Rupert's name."

Luke shook his head. "We can dicker about the legalities later. Just do it!"

Han started to argue, then thought the better of it and turned to the computer console as Leia entered the reception room. "Luke? What's wrong?"

Luke waved her silent. Han looked up from the console. "The _Falcon's _gone."

"Is it still in the system? Call him back. Put a lock on it, but _don't_ let him go to lightspeed!"

Han punched buttons, realizing that it would be better to ask questions later. "It's gone, Luke. According to the bay-log, the doors were opened yesterday."

Luke closed his eyes and ran his hands through his silver hair.

"You want to tell me what all that was just about?"

"I'm sorry, Han," Luke whispered. "I'm so sorry..."

Alarm crossed Leia's features. "Where's Rupert, Luke? Where's he gone?"

"He's gone...to get himself killed," Luke replied.

.

.

.

"Someone," said Lippa incredulously, "is attacking us. Single-handedly."

Brenna blinked. "You're not serious?"

Lippa swiveled the monitor towards her. "Look for yourself."

Brenna stared at the screen. "I know that ship," she said.

"Yes," Lippa said. "It's the same ship you used to blow up my Star Destroyer."

"He doesn't stand a prayer."

"No, he doesn't. Who is he, Brenna?"

"His name is Rupert Solo. He's my father's student."

Now it was Lippa's turn to be surprised. "Your father's _student_? You realize, of course, that this changes the rules. If your father has taken up teaching again, he is no longer quite as harmless as I originally thought, and I am no longer bound by that ridiculous promise."

Brenna laughed. "You're overestimating my father. Rupert is the only exception to his retirement, and _he's_ just as harmless as my father."

"Oh? Then why is your father training him? And why is he here?"

Brenna turned away from the screen, still smiling. "In answer to your first question, Rupert is a creature-empath, and‑‑‑"

"He's a Whill? I thought _my_ father destroyed them all."

"Obviously, he missed one."

"Solo...Senator Organa-Solo's son? He has a brother and a sister, I believe, does he not?"

"Irrelevant. Rupert was adopted, birth parents unknown. But in answer to your second question of why is he here, he believes himself to be in love with me. I'm certain he's come to ask me to return with him to my father's side." She switched off the monitor and shrugged. "As I said, he's harmless. Have your TIE pilots take him alive. I want to deliver my answer to him personally."

.

.

.

The TIE fighters forced Rupert down and an armed guard escorted him down a corridor, past other prisoners. The ones in the cells looked at him in pity or turned away as if they couldn't bear to watch.

"Why are they looking at me like that?" Rupert asked.

Apparently the guards were not under orders to remain silent with prisoners, because all of them laughed, and one of them spoke. "It's because we're heading _this_ way. Anyone going _that_ way is heading for the processing chambers. Anyone going _this_ way is heading for the interrogation rooms."

From the way they spoke, Rupert felt a momentary fear, then relaxed. Of course, Brenna would want to talk to him in private. The thought was comforting.

They left the bay of cells and came to an open area surrounded by doors with numbers on them. The guards opened one of the doors and escorted him inside. The room contained only one piece of furniture: a chair whose purpose was all too clear.

"Have a seat," one of the guards joked.

"Don't worry," another said. "He will."

They shut the door and surrounded him, standing, not tightening their circle around him but locking him inside with the chair. Rupert's legs felt weak. He wanted to sit, but there was no place to sit except the chair, and so he remained standing.

It seemed like an eternity until the door opened again, and two people entered together. One was Brenna, and the other had to be Etan Lippa.

She was on Lippa's arm.

She left Lippa and sat down on the arm of the chair casually. "Hello, Rupert," she said.

Rupert felt frightened. Not just a surface fear, but a fear that reached into the depths of his soul. He could feel her now, and what he felt was Dark and Cold.

"Now," Brenna mused, "where—? Ah!" She stood up and extended a finger towards his neck. Rupert drew back, but found his arms being grabbed by the guards behind him. Brenna scratched at the slight bulge that encircled his neck. "Come on out," she purred. "Let's have a good look at you."

A few inches from where she was scratching, the krail poked its head out from under Rupert's collar. "_There_ you are," Brenna smiled. She made a quick grab, and caught the snake just behind its head, then proceeded to pull its entire length out from Rupert's shirt. "Oh, it's still just a _baby_," she crooned, holding the krail up so that all it could do was writhe as it dangled from her hand. She held it towards the guards. "But very, very poisonous." The guards released Rupert and backed away a step. Another guard with a terrarium stepped forward but held the terrarium with arms extended. The guard with the terrarium must have followed Lippa and Brenna into the room, because Rupert hadn't noticed him earlier.

"Really, Rupert," said Brenna, "I can't say much for your taste in jewelry." She deposited the krail into the terrarium and brushed her hands against her trousers distastefully. Then she sat down on the arm of the chair again. "It was very foolish of you to come here. No doubt you came without my father's approval." She ran her hand along the chair, trailing her fingers across the leather. "Very foolish, Rupert. Do you know that I made this chair myself? Well, not 'made,' actually, as much as 'modified.'"

"Brenna...no. Don't do this."

She smiled. "Rupert," she said, "you don't understand. I'll just have to show you. Even the Jedi have their limits, and you are not a Jedi. Not yet."

"Not ever," Lippa said.

"But let's see how close you can come, shall we?" Brenna looked up at the guards and made a gesture with her head. They seized Rupert again. He fought, but the struggle was brief. These were not the undisciplined, untrained criminals of Tatooine. These were Lippa's top men. Brenna stood up from the chair, and they dragged Rupert over to it and secured him in with the bands made of pure titanium, with a locking mechanism Brenna had designed herself, which even a Jedi could not escape from.

When they finished strapping Rupert to the chair, Brenna turned to Lippa and said, "He's mine."

Lippa smiled knowingly. "Of course," he said, and gestured to the guards. They withdrew from the room.

"_Mine_!" Brenna hissed.

Lippa's smile faltered for a second. He reached out through the Force to touch Brenna's mind. He sensed it in her: anticipation and a certain amount of sexual pleasure. These things must be encouraged. His smile returned. "Of course," he said again, and started toward the door himself. He turned back and saw her adjusting the controls on the chair, and the chair leaned forward to engage in its ready position. He shook his head. Such devices were clean, too clean. But the pain these devices inflicted was exquisite, and it was enough to know that she was learning to take delight in the Dark Pleasures they produced. And if, for the moment, she insisted on enjoying them in private, so be it.

Soon, very soon, she would share this, and other pleasures of the flesh with him. But he remembered the vision, and knew that she would have to come to him in her own time. For now, he would leave her to her own pleasures. But he left a thread of his presence behind to remind her that even though he was not there physically, he was still a part of her.

Rupert raised his head with some difficulty, saw the look that passed between Lippa and Brenna. Then the door closed, and Rupert was alone with her. When she turned back to face him, he saw that her eyes were still cold and eager, waiting.

Rupert forced himself to meet her gaze levelly. She wasn't the same person he had met on Tatooine. But it was inconceivable that the bright angel from the desert could possibly have changed so much. "Brenna—" he said.

She seemed not to hear him.

Rupert tried reaching out to touch her through the Force. But even as he touched her spirit, he recoiled in horror. Like Lippa, he sensed only her anticipation in the pleasure of the upcoming activities. "No—" he said. "Don't do this. I loved you..."

She looked at him, finally, and reached out to caress his cheek with her hand, and he turned his face away in disgust. Then she bent her face down to his, and he could see that she was almost smiling. He turned away again, but her voice was whispering in his ear.

"I want you to scream," she said, almost tenderly.

"Not a chance," Rupert answered defiantly.

Brenna smiled. She kneeled down to face him. Her thumb touched his lips gently. "My brave almost-Jedi," she said softly. "You misunderstand me. You don't have a choice. You _will_ scream..."

Outside, in the hallway, Etan Lippa waited. When the screams came, he was ready. He opened himself to them, and shivered with pleasure. From the boy, he sensed only waves and waves of pain. But from Brenna, he felt the exquisite ecstasy of the Dark Side's power. Yes, soon she would be his.

Very soon.

.

.

.

Luke was alone when it came. Lucy had been summoned from the Academy and was on her way home, knowing only that there was a "family emergency." Leia was with Poul. She was trying to deal with her grief by focusing her thoughts on the son she had left, her youngest child, the boy who still needed her. Luke had told her it was a certainty Rupert would be killed, but fortunately Leia was untrained. She would only feel a vague sense of his loss, not the manner of it.

Han, on the other hand, was like a caged animal. He kept pacing back and forth, alternately blaming Luke, then himself, then Rupert. It was all Luke could do to keep him from going after Rupert. The impossible odds didn't seem to make much difference to Han, but Luke kept him home by reminding him of the fact that if Lippa learned of Leia's genetic relationship to Luke, Lippa would come after Leia, and Lucy, and Poul. Han was needed more at home than on a hopeless rescue for a son who was already dead. Leia stayed with Poul, and Han, when he wasn't pacing, stayed with both of them, and so Luke was alone for the most part.

Then he felt it.

It was just like when the others were killed, though not quite as intense. That was probably a result of Rupert's incomplete training and the distance separating them.

Leia sensed it only as a vague feeling that something was very wrong, and then shortly thereafter the certainty that Rupert was gone. She and Han and Poul all wept, but they wept together.

Luke, however, had no one, so he wept alone.

He had wept for the others, too, and with each one, he had thought it could never feel worse. But he knew now that he had been wrong. It was much, much worse with Rupert, not because Rupert had suffered more, or because Luke was closer to Rupert than to the others he had trained.

This time it was worse, worse even than Corran's death, because it wasn't Etan Lippa who had done it.

This time, it was Brenna.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_To win is to lose,_

_No victory complete._

_The weight of an aegis_

_Can its wearer defeat._

_._

_Strength is elusive,_

_And power obscure._

_If a Jedi grows powerless,_

_Is there a cure?_

.

"My dear," said Lippa, "I must leave Croyus Four to supervise the fleet. My so-called 'admirals' are becoming sloppy. They manage to destroy the supply lines I send them to capture, and call it a victory. You will accompany me, of course."

Brenna made a face. "Oh, Etan, do I _have_ to? I'd much rather stay here and supervise _my_ work."

"And what if your father decides to pay a call?"

"_If_ my father comes looking for me, I shall deal with him as I did with Rupert. I give you my word on that."

"You have progressed remarkably well, but I'm not sure you're ready for that challenge yet."

"I'm ready," Brenna assured him. "My father is no threat to me. Shall I tell you the _real_ reason he never trained me?"

"By all means."

"He was afraid of me. He knew that I would be stronger with the Force than he ever was. He was right. I _am_ stronger. Don't worry, Etan, I can handle him."

"My dear, I _am_ impressed. But not convinced. I am afraid that I require further proof."

Brenna's fingers walked up Lippa's arm. "What further proof do you need?"

Lippa took her hand and kissed it. "You already know what I want. Prove your loyalty by giving it to me."

Brenna smiled. "It's not what _you_ want that concerns me. Etan, darling, as much as _I_ may want to, too, I am fully aware that this is my best bargaining chip. I want something out of it, too‑‑‑beyond just a quick tumble in the sheets."

"And what might that be?"

"Full control of Croyus Four. All the codes, all the guards, everything. Including your Corporal Garm. I want my orders followed without question, without having to justify every milicredit, and without Garm reporting to you what time I go to the bathroom and how many ounces of lachta I consume. I want to stay here and see that it's run to _my_ specifications while you go off and fight your silly battles. I want to run it _my_ way. Give me that power, Etan, and I'll give you what you want."

A slow smile spread across Lippa's face as he considered the offer. "Agreed," he said. "I'll give you full control over everything on Croyus Four except my Crimson Guard."

"I don't care about your silly bodyguard," Brenna replied. "Unless, of course, you plan to let them watch. In which case, the deal's off."

Lippa shook his head slightly, still smiling, as he advanced toward her. "The deal's not off," he said, caressing her cheek with his palm. "Croyus Four is yours, and you're…mine."

He bent his head and kissed her, and Brenna's arms came up to circle his neck.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Han asked accusingly.

"I'm sorry, Han, I didn't know," Luke said.

"I thought you knew everything! I thought you could see into his mind! You're supposed to be able to do that, aren't you?"

"I can't read all thoughts all the time. Unless it's a two-way link, I can only catch glimpses."

"Well, why didn't you glimpse into his mind and figure it out? No, wait, don't answer that. I know already. This whole Jedi-mistique is just one giant scam, isn't it? You aren't really any better than anybody else, are you? You just latched onto Rupert because he actually believed in all that nonsense you had Corran pour into his brain."

"Han!" Leia exclaimed. "You don't mean it!"

"Damn right, I mean it! Why'd you do it, Luke? Did you run out of enough marks in the general populace that you had to come knocking at _my_ door?"

"He had to be trained, Han," Luke said quietly. "If he hadn't, he would have gone insane."

"I have only your word on that! Deities, why did I ever let you do that to him?"

"I'm sorry, Han."

"Oh, yeah, you're sorry, all right. You're the sorriest thing I've seen in a long time! You're so sorry that—"

"Han!" Leia tried to intercede again. "Can't you see that this is tearing _him_ apart, too?"

"It's all right, Leia," Luke said softly.

"The Hell it's all right!" Han exploded. "You killed my son!"

"Rupert was _our_ son," Leia corrected. "And Luke didn't kill him. For Rupert's sake, I'm asking you to go back into our chambers and think about what you just said."

"Yeah, I'll go," Han said. He turned to Luke. "But when I come back, I want to find _you_ gone." Han stormed out of the room, and his wife turned to her brother.

"I'm sorry, Luke," she said. "He's just not himself. When he calms down, he'll come to his senses."

"He's angry," Luke said. "I can't blame him, because I'm angry, too. But when I look around for someone to blame, the only one I see is me."

"It's not your fault."

"She's my daughter."

"And Darth Vader was our father. That doesn't mean our children will be like us, any more than we're like he was."

Luke kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Leia. But I gave her life, and raised her. I'm responsible for however she turned out."

"Not for everything, Luke."

Luke smiled sadly. "Well," he said, "maybe, or maybe not. Han was right about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"I can't stay here."

"Luke, no! He didn't mean it. You know he didn't!"

Luke shook his head. "I'm not leaving because of Han. I'm leaving because I have to. Lippa's left Brenna alone. It may be the only chance I ever get."

"What are you going to do?" Leia asked.

"I'm going to try to turn her back. If I can't...I don't know. She's still my daughter, Leia. And no matter what she's become, I still love her. If I can't turn her back, I know what I have to do. I just don't know if I can do it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_To struggle against _

_The prophecy's will,_

_Can a Jedi's heart harden_

_And own offspring kill?_

_._

_Else inevitable end _

_Set in motion will be_

_In the chain of events_

_That fulfill prophecy. _

.

Brenna was busy inspecting the gas chamber when she got the call. She was meticulously strict about the condition of the chambers and inspected them thoroughly herself on a regular basis. The arrival of her father's ship at this exact moment in time was...

…inconvenient, nothing more. "Capture alive," she snapped into her com-link. She'd gotten into the habit of using no more words than absolutely necessary. "Twenty Elite-guard escort. Isolation ward, cell D." That ought to do it, she decided. Even a Jedi had his limits, and she doubted that her father would be foolish enough to take on nearly two dozen of Lippa's hand-picked elite guard. Cell D was one that she had specifically set aside for her father.

She turned her attention back to the chamber, and jiggled one of the tubes. "This connection's loose. See to it."

"Yes, Administrator."

"Don't let me find any more like it."

"No, Administrator."

She went outside the chamber and opened an access panel. She studied the circuitry carefully, then nodded. Everything was in order here. It had to be. Everything needed to be perfect, or her whole game-plan would be in jeopardy. Attention to detail, she mused wryly.

Brenna checked her chronometer. Then she turned to her assistant. "Are those supply reports ready yet?"

"Yes, Administrator."

"Good. I'll be in my office reviewing them."

"Yes, Administrator."

She was still in her office when the first call came. She had a lot of work to do before Etan returned, and every detail needed to be perfect. The call was…annoying.

"The prisoner is asking to see you," Garm reported.

"Request denied," Brenna replied. She switched off her com-link.

After an interval, it buzzed again. She was still busy with her reports. "The prisoner," Garm said, "claims to be your father. He insists upon seeing you."

"Since when," Brenna snapped, "does a prisoner insist upon _any_thing? Monitor him through surveillance systems rather than personal observation, and turn off the audio. Request denied."

She turned off her com-link again, and adjusted a figure in the report. There were other figures that needed to be adjusted as well. Her father would just have to wait.

It was some hours later when the next call came, and she was nearly finished with her report. "Administrator," Garm said in a nervous tone. "The prisoner has escaped."

"Escaped? How?"

"Unknown at this time."

"Damage? Injuries?" Brenna asked.

"Surveillance systems appear to be inoperative. No injuries reported."

"He'll probably head for the shuttle bay. Double the guards there."

"Yes, Administrator. And should I also post guards in the cargo bays?"

"Do whatever you feel is necessary to keep the prisoner from escaping. If you manage to capture him again, I may overlook this incompetence." She switched off the communicator and adjusted another figure. She would re-check them all later. She knew where her father would go, of course. Not to the shuttle bay where she had told the corporal to double the guards. If escape had been his only motive, he would never have allowed himself to be captured in the first place. No, he had come to see her, and he would not leave until he had accomplished his purpose.

It would be, she decided, unwise to put off the inevitable any longer.

Slowly, she rose from her desk and moved to the door. She went to her quarters, ignoring the salutes she received on the way, coded the access panel, and entered without even bothering to turn on the lights. "Hello, Father," she said when the door had shut.

The lights came on seemingly by themselves, but when Brenna turned around, she saw her father lowering his hand from the activating sensor. "Brenna," he said.

"I thought I'd find you here," she said.

"I see that some things have changed," he said, looking at the lights.

Brenna almost smiled. "So they have."

He had no response to that, and so he just stood there and regarded her levelly. His fingers idly tapped the wall twice.

Brenna laughed. "Really, Father, there's no need for codes. My private quarters are not monitored. You may speak as freely as you like."

Luke let his hand drop to his side. His last hope lay dead.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Brenna prompted. "That is why you came here, isn't it? To lecture me?"

"No," Luke answered. "I don't think I could say anything that you haven't already heard from Rupert."

"Well, then, what do you want?"

"I've come to take you back with me."

"Request denied. I'm staying here."

"Would you kill me, then?"

Brenna looked at him for another moment, then turned away to study a painting on the wall, an expensive _Gonier_ depicting a woman whose face was in the shadows. She had acquired it from relics Etan Lippa had been about to dispose of, only because she had liked it, and had not at the time realized its symbolic significance. "I can arrange for your escape," she said. "That's as much as I can do for you."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Brenna whirled around to face him again. "Then you'll have to be processed, just like all the other prisoners."

"Like Rupert was 'processed'?"

A dry smile crossed her features. "Not exactly. Rupert enjoyed the full VIP package. You'll have to go coach, since I have other business to attend to."

"Is that all I am to you, then? A piece of 'business'?"

"Essentially, at the moment. So which is it to be, escape or processing?"

"As I said, I'm not leaving without you."

Brenna sighed, then moved to the table. She hit the switch for the communicator. "Corporal Garm," she said.

"Yes, Administrator?" Garm's voice answered.

Brenna looked back at her father, who had not moved. "The...prisoner is in my quarters. Send a detail here immediately."

"At once, Administrator."

Brenna switched off the communicator and turned back to her father. "You still have a moment before they get here. I suggest you make use of it."

Luke shook his head. "I'm not leaving."

"You're a fool."

"I suppose I am. There was a time when I would not have believed that my daughter was capable of murder. And I thought that seeing me face-to-face, you might change your mind. I see that I was wrong, just as Rupert was. Maybe…it will mean something to you, knowing that I died trying to save you. Do with me what you will; I'm too tired to fight."

Brenna moved to the wall and touched a pad. A panel slid open, and a tray slid out bearing a bottle of expensive Denebian wine with two fine crystal goblets. Brenna opened the bottle and poured the wine. She set one of the glasses before her father. "One of the luxuries I've acquired along the way, and the only one I've time to share with you," she said, indicating the wine. She raised her goblet in his direction. "Here's to you, Father, and to as pretty a speech as I've ever heard from someone about to be processed."

Luke left the wine untouched. "I'm going coach, remember? Besides, I find that I've lost my taste for luxuries."

Brenna drained her glass. "A shame, as it really is excellent stuff. You know, it may surprise you, but I really do care about you, in my own way."

"I'm delighted. Did you also care about Rupert?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Are you surprised?"

"Considering the manner of his death, I would have to say yes."

The door buzzed, and Brenna turned her back to her father. "Enter," she said.

Garm burst into the quarters with a squad of guards behind him. He was obviously startled to see such a calm scene in front of him, with the wine glasses on the table and Brenna Brellis standing with her back to a man he'd already been warned was a fully-trained Jedi Knight. His blaster wavered uncertainly.

"Corporal," said Brenna, "The prisoner is to be processed immediately."

"Standard procedure?" Garm asked.

Brenna nodded. "Standard procedure." She turned to face her father for the last time. "_Au revoir_, Father. Give Rupert my regards."

Luke met her gaze, then looked at his escort and stepped into the center of their ring.

"Oh, Garm—" she said as they were about to leave.

"Yes, Administrator?"

"You may put the blasters away. I don't believe that the prisoner will give you any trouble."

Garm looked at her doubtfully, but he holstered his blaster. The other guards followed his example and put theirs away as well.

Brenna turned away from the door and picked up Luke's untouched glass from the table. She drained it as the doors swooshed closed behind the group. Then she smiled. "Yes," she said, holding the empty glass up to the light, "it really is excellent stuff."

.

.

.

Luke entered the gas-chamber calmly. As Brenna had predicted, he did not give the guards any trouble. He was too tired, and there was no point in it. He looked around the large chamber, and realized wryly that he was the only occupant. Hadn't he taught his daughter thrift?

A click that meant the door was being locked reminded him of what he was here for. He looked around the chamber again, found what he was looking for, and strode over to it with neither enthusiasm nor reluctance.

It was a long time in coming. Several moments passed, and nothing happened. He leaned up against the vent tiredly, using his arms as a brace. When he finally did hear the hiss of gas being released, he was almost thankful. He inhaled deeply at the vent's port once, and then again.

It was odd, he realized, but his last conscious thoughts were that the gas had a sweet, pleasant scent to it, almost like flowers in a field.

Then he lost consciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_If you heed not my wisdom,_

_You may yet have a chance,_

If the Dead teach the Dead

How to join in the Dance.

_._

_Palpatine's Son_

_Is Prophecy's Key._

_And one who is and yet isn't_

_Will unlock what I see._

_._

Luke awakened slowly, with a pounding headache. He heard voices coming from somewhere above him, and realized that he was lying down.

"A Jedi knight? How the hell did _he_ get here?" a voice asked.

"Classified."

"Sorry. He's code yellow?"

"Right."

Luke felt his arm being lifted, and something being snapped around his wrist.

"How is he?"

Luke thought he recognized that voice. It sounded like Rupert—but that was impossible. Rupert was dead.

Come to think of it, so was he.

Luke frowned.

"He's coming around," someone said.

"Luke? Luke?" That was Rupert's voice again.

"Wha—" he managed to say. He remembered how Ben Kenobi's and Yoda's physical bodies had disappeared to leave only a luminous spirit. He wondered if that had happened to him.

"Luke, are you all right?"

Luke opened his eyes, and then shut them again from the painful light. He dismissed the spirit-theory. He doubted that a spirit would be bothered by hangovers. But if he was alive, then he was either imagining things, or Rupert was alive, too.

Rupert, _alive_?

He decided to hold the question and sort out reality from imagination later. Instead, he voiced the next question that popped into his head, and wondered if he would imagine an answer in response. "What—where am I?"

"Welcome to the Afterlife," someone said.

"Be quiet!" Rupert said in an annoyed tone.

Luke opened his eyes again, and forced them to stay open. Rupert was standing over him, smiling. Two other people, a man and a woman dressed in work overalls hovered on either side of him. Luke's head was splitting. He struggled to sit up, and Rupert helped him. "Funny," he said dryly. "I don't feel dead."

"You're not," Rupert assured him. "You're in a...sort of clearing-house. Everyone who enters the Afterlife passes through here."

Luke shook his head to try and clear it, but the effort just compounded the headache. He raised a hand to his brow.

Rupert made a gesture, and someone outside of Luke's line of vision handed Rupert a glass. Rupert held it up to Luke's lips. Luke sipped at the stuff experimentally. It had a faintly medicinal taste to it.

"Where—?" Luke croaked.

"You're in a safe place," Rupert answered. "Somewhere in the Medea system, I believe. Beyond that, I don't know."

Rupert held the glass up again, and Luke took another sip with Rupert's help, then took the glass to hold it himself.

"How are you feeling?" Rupert asked.

"Headache," Luke managed in response.

Rupert smiled. "That's normal. I'm told that drinking a little alcohol before being gassed helps, but I've yet to meet anyone who's experienced that luxury. And you, my friend, got an extra-strong dose of the stuff."

The mention of alcohol reminded Luke of the glass of wine Brenna had offered him, and he frowned. Then another question popped into his head, and he said, "Forgive me for asking this, but why aren't you dead?"

Rupert smiled. "Oh, but I am. Officially, anyway."

The medicine began to take effect, and the pounding headache started to recede. Luke started to lay the glass aside.

"Drink it all," Rupert advised. "It helps." He gestured to the other occupants in the room, and they left, leaving the teacher and student together. Only this time, Luke felt that_ he_ was the ignorant one.

Luke drained the medicine, then raised the hand with the glass and looked at the yellow bracelet locked around his wrist. "What's this?"

"Identity code. Lets people know how much they can tell you. Red is most common. Those people know almost nothing about where they are and how they got here. You and I are both yellow, as were the others in this room. I can tell you everything I know, which isn't much, but we're not supposed to let anything slip to the greens or reds. Blue is the highest level. They know more about what's going on than anybody, but I've only seen one since I've been here, and he's the one that brought you. Brought you, then left. I have a feeling that he may be the mysterious 'Number One' that everyone keeps talking about, but I don't know for sure. Neither, it seems, does anybody else I've talked to."

"'Number One'?"

"The one who's in charge of this little scam. Seems that some of the people who 'die' on Croyus Four aren't really dead. There's a compound that, when added to the gas used in the chambers, neutralizes the killing effects of the poison and just knocks you out for a while, simulating death. The 'bodies' are then supposedly 'shipped' for disposal, but are actually brought here. A few of the prisoners are given new identities and leave, to go back to work for the resistance. Some actually return to Croyus Four, as replacements for the actual guards there. Most stay here, to work on keeping this place running. You're the lucky one. You're to be the only one who has ever 'escaped' from Croyus Four. Seems your Jedi powers have enabled you to slow down your metabolism enough to 'play dead,' so to speak, and you cleared out while you were in storage—which isn't too far from the truth, actually. You'll stay here for a while until arrangements can be made to transport you back to Coruscant, or wherever you want to go."

"What about you?"

"I'll put in a request to go with you, but I'm almost certain they won't let me go back to Coruscant. They won't risk my coming into contact with someone who knows me—too many suspicions would be raised if the 'dead' suddenly came back to life. They're very cautious here."

"How much does Brenna know about this?"

Rupert shook his head. "I don't know, Luke. From every indication, all this is going on right under her nose, and she has no idea of what is happening. The chief architect is supposedly someone pretty high up in the chain of command, but not as high up as that."

"Rupert, tell me something. I _felt_ you die. I _felt_ your pain. How...is it that you're still alive?"

Rupert looked away, into the distance. "I don't know, Luke, to be quite honest with you. I don't remember any of that. The doctors here use a memory—wipe on those prisoners who have been so tortured or so brutalized by Lippa's forces that the very memory of it terrifies them to the point of insanity. I don't know why 'insanity' keeps coming up in my case, but so be it. They tell me I was tortured, but that's as much as they'll say."

Luke put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rupert. You loved her."

Rupert turned back to face him, with a wry, rueful smile pulling at his mouth. "So did you. But the irony is, I still do. I wish I _did_ remember, so that I could _stop_ loving her."

After the fogging effects of the drug had worn off, Luke was able to think clearly enough to puzzle over the facts about his brief visit to Croyus Four.

Despite what Rupert had said, there was some evidence to indicate that Brenna might have at least some knowledge of the Afterlife. Hadn't her exact words been, "_Au revoir_," not 'good-bye,' and "Give Rupert my regards"? She had offered to arrange for Luke's escape, and had even offered him a glass of wine, which would have lessened the "hang-over" effects of the gas-drug. Those all _could_ have been coincidences, or an indication that Brenna knew about the Afterlife. That might have been a hopeful sign, except that what he _felt_ though the Force was a devotion to Lippa and a numbing Coldness that could only be associated with the Dark side. If Brenna knew about the Afterlife, then she probably had some Dark purpose of her own in allowing the Afterlife to exist, but Luke wasn't sure he liked that any better than the idea of Brenna running Croyus Four solely as a death camp.

And there was Rupert's "death" to consider. Luke had felt Rupert's pain, had felt him die. That wasn't the sort of thing one could disguise. Yet Rupert was alive. The only explanation Luke could come up with was that Rupert must have come so _close_ to dying that the sensation was essentially the same, and the certainty of his death had blinded Luke to the fact that Rupert had recovered. Luke could feel Rupert's presence _now_, of course. He attributed that to his knowledge that Rupert still lived and the physical proximity of the younger man. On the other hand, if Brenna or Etan Lippa felt traces of Rupert's presence, then the whole operation at Croyus Four would be endangered.

Some of the mystery might be solved by Rupert himself. Luke might be able to pull Rupert's memory back with the help of some directed telepathy, but once retrieved, it would be impossible to wipe again. He couldn't take the chance that the retrieval would do irreversible damage to Rupert.

The only thing that _wasn't_ a mystery, it seemed, was the day-to-day operations of the "colony," or whatever the Afterlife could actually be called. Here on the planet, each former prisoner had a job to do, one that was usually compatible with his/her talents and experiences. There was no monetary system; if one person wanted something not specifically rationed, he or she bartered for it. Since there was no money involved, there were no jobs that were higher-paid than others, although certain jobs had more or less prestige than others, depending on the talents and experiences necessary to accomplish it.

The yellow band around Luke's wrist gave him access to a great many places, but such access didn't yield much new information. After a week, he knew more about the operations than anyone else among the yellows, but the sum total of his knowledge was hardly more than some interesting insights into how the place was run.

As far as Luke was able to determine, there were only three "Blues" that had ever been seen, the one who had brought Luke, rumored to be the mysterious "Number One," and two others who made infrequent but regular appearances. None, however, had made any appearances in the Afterlife since Luke's arrival.

Luke had been briefed, of course. As a yellow, the rules he had to follow were simple. He could ask anyone about anything he wanted to know, and could answer freely any question asked of him by another yellow or a blue. He could answer any question asked of him by a red, so long as the answer did not divulge the location of the base, or the specific names or locations of those persons involved in the operation. Not that he needed to be briefed; the reds who asked him questions only seemed interested in how the Resistance was faring in general terms, and whether he knew how specific friends or relatives were getting along.

The more Luke saw of the Afterlife, the more he was impressed with its operations and management. But he also found it frustrating, because he had not been able to learn much more than what Rupert had already told him.

One of the things that he did learn was that some of the prisoners had supposedly been assigned off-world, especially those with experience in supply and shipping industries or experience in accounting, but such assignments usually involved face and name changes for the prisoners. A few other prisoners had elected to marry mates that they had found in the Afterlife. The only thing lacking to make the colony resemble a real community was children, but Luke had seen one or two pregnant women in the mess hall, so even that aspect would soon be covered.

The society set up on the planet was as near-perfect as Luke imagined it was possible to get. One couldn't help but admire the efficiency of the whole operation. Everyone did his or her own job without complaining and without worrying about how that job interacted with the job of everyone else. But they all dovetailed with each other so perfectly, and the whole system was so self-supporting that it could only have been by design. Food was served cafeteria-style, and those individuals who liked to cook were usually assigned duties in food-preparation. Any items not directly related to survival had to be requested through special "brokers," and were limited as to the availability of specific items and the reasonability of the request. Entertainments were free, although they were not of the high-budget type, mostly amateur productions, and other services might be bartered for, but such exchanges were considered as contracts between individuals. There was no legal system, per se, only an informal arbitration system to settle disputes, which were few and far between.

Luke had studied societies in which such systems had failed, but here it worked, and it worked well. Perhaps it was because the people here all knew that they owed their lives to the system in which they now lived, and they knew that its continued operation might save the life of a spouse, a sibling, a friend, or other loved one. There was a strong sense of community here. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that only certain types were sent to Croyus Four in the first place.

But despite all the positive aspects of this little community, there was a negative thread of apprehension that ran all through it: a fear that they might be discovered, the whole operation closed down for good, and all the officially "dead" executed for real. It was a fear that no one talked about, but Luke could sense it all the same. Still, there was an unmistakable genius behind the whole plan, but the purpose was unknown.

Meals were served cafeteria style, in any of several plasticrete buildings erected for that purpose. Luke's first meal was one that he would not soon forget. When he had sat down and taken the first bite of what was on his tray, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"What's wrong?" Rupert asked, talking around his own food.

"Nothing," Luke replied. "I just didn't recognize the main course until now. Guaco beans. I used to grow them."

"Yeah? Well, you're going to be eating a lot of them around here."

Luke almost smiled. "Oh, I'm not complaining. I'm a great supporter of guaco beans. But this—" he waved his fork over his plate—"has got to be one of the most unique ways of fixing guaco beans that I've ever seen."

"This? This is one of the 'normal' days. Stick around. They have contests to see who can come up with a new way of fixing them. Baked, fried, mashed, stewed, cassaroled—we've even had a few guaco bean-based desserts."

And, in fact, at the next meal Luke was served a concoction of beans that had been cooked, mashed, frozen, flavored, sweetened, and molded into bizarre shapes.

Everyone in the Afterlife had a job, one that took advantage of his or her skills and talents. Once it was learned that Luke had been a farmer, he was asked to consult on what could be done to increase the crop yield on the colony's farms—mostly guaco beans, of course—and Luke found himself in the rather novel situation of discovering that the plants were receiving too _much_ water rather than too little. It seemed, however, that Luke's status as a Yellow gave him some special considerations, because he was never asked to do any physical labor, and the few times he had started to pick up a tool and pitch in, someone would come and take the tool from him to do the work instead.

There were a number of leisure-time activities from which to choose here, as well. Several art and craft classes were offered, depending upon availability of instructors and materials and space. Instruction in various vocational fields were the most common offerings and received the highest priority for the Afterlife's limited resources, because those classes helped satisfy the various needs of the colony, but it was not uncommon to find small groups of budding artists gathered outdoors or in rooms during the odd times when different venues were available.

And then there was Rupert.

Housing had assigned Luke and Rupert to the same room, and the boy pestered him daily to take him "all the way."

"I'm already dead," Rupert argued repeatedly. "You kept your word to my Dad, but everyone at home thinks I'm dead. You're released from your promise. We've both tried separately to turn Brenna back from Etan Lippa, and failed. It's time we tried together."

The words of an old teacher floated back to Luke from the past: _No! Do, or do not! There is no 'try.'_ But there was a certain logic to the boy's arguments. Together, their chances were only infinitesimally better, but they _were_ slightly improved.

Then one day Luke returned to the room to find Rupert stuffing his single change of clothes into a satchel.

"What are you doing?" Luke asked.

"Going back to Croyus Four," Rupert replied grimly. My transfer request came through today. Yours, too, by the way. There was a message to that effect when I got back from lunch. Approved by Number One himself."

Luke studied the boy. "They'd be idiots to let you go back to Croyus Four. Are you sure it was _that_ request they approved?"

"The destination on the message wasn't specified, but that's the only request I put in."

"It may be the only one _you_ requested, but _I_ put one in for you. Destination unspecified, but _not_ Coruscant or Croyus Four. Would you _really_ risk the lives of everyone here for your own personal mission?"

"I still love her, Luke."

"I know. That's why I put in the request for you. I can take you to one of two places. I can take you either to the Corellian system, send word to let your parents know you're still alive and have them meet you there on a 'vacation.' You won't be able to live at home any more, but you'll still be able to see your family from time to time. Or I can take you to a jungle world, to take you 'all the way,' as you put it."

"All the way!" Rupert exclaimed.

"Wait," Luke said. "There's no room for a half-hearted decision here. We either do it, or we don't. Once that decision is made, there's no turning back. And remember what I said before? You've only got less than a ten percent chance of making it through, a greater than ninety percent that you won't."

Rupert was silent for a moment, then asked, "I won't be able to see Brenna again unless I do it, will I?"

"No," Luke said. "But it's highly unlikely you'll see her again even if you do."

"What's the name of this jungle world?" Rupert asked.

"Dagobah."

"Let's go to Dagobah."

.

.

.

"My dear, I am disappointed in the way you handled your father."

"Oh, Etan, give me a break. I was busy. How was I to know Garm would botch it?"

"Your father was not a typical prisoner. You should have dealt with him yourself."

Brenna sighed. "You're right, of course. And so I shall." She was silent for a moment, then smiled. "Yes. And fulfill the prophecy at the same time."

"How do you mean?"

"Etan, my darling, so far, you have come to me. The prophecy said that I would come to you. I'll go take care of my father, and do it right, this time, and then return."

Lippa laughed. "You _do_ have a sense of humor, my dear. I will not allow it. Now that he has come here, I am released from that silly promise you asked of me. _I_ will deal with your father."

"No. He's mine."

"He _was_ yours. You played your hand and lost."

"He still _is_ mine. I've dealt myself a new hand, and I've got a new prize to stake against yours."

"Oh? What's that?"

Brenna smiled, sidled up to him, took his hand, and placed it over her stomach. "Etan, darling," she said, "I'm pregnant…"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

.

One I've not met,

Untutored, you burn

_With a knowledge of Power_

_And a hunger to learn._

_._

_Use Force for knowledge_

_And for defense._

_Yet against the Dark Agent,_

_Defense is pretense._

_._

Luke ate his dinner wordlessly, mechanically, only because he knew he had to eat. Rupert joined him, also eating in silence, partly out of respect for his teacher's mood, mostly because he didn't have anything to say himself. When they were finished, the dishes were washed without talking.

Rupert had weirded-out when they first landed, and Luke had had to bring him back. Since then, Rupert had been blocking, and though Luke had tried to teach him how to bring himself back, so far it had been all talk. The boy was afraid to let go, and the longer he wore himself out trying to block, the harder it would be to bring him back in the end.

As he dried the last dish, Luke turned to his student and said tiredly, "We'll work with the naros tonight. Go outside and see if you can—" He stopped suddenly. His brows furrowed.

"Luke? What is it?"

"It's Brenna," he said. "She's here."

"_Here_?" Rupert asked. "How could she know where we are?"

"It's not the 'how' that concerns me half as much as the 'why.' She's very close."

From the door, a voice they both recognized said, "Very close, indeed. Hello, Father. May I come in?"

Luke turned around slowly. He'd had no idea she was _this_ close.

Brenna smiled. Without waiting for an answer, she ducked through the doorway and entered the hut. She glanced around the interior. "So this is the famous house of Yoda I heard about in all those stories. Small—but then it would be, wouldn't it?"

"Brenna..." Luke said.

"You came to see me. I thought it only fair to return the favor. Good evening, Rupert. Do you have anything to eat? I'm starving."

"We just finished," Luke said, "I was just about to work with Rupert on some exercises. And around here we don't barge in without permission."

Brenna raised her eyebrows at her father. "Do forgive me, but I seem to recall your entering my quarters without permission back on Croyus Four. However, my timing does seem to be a bit off, and I wouldn't want to intrude where I'm not welcome, especially if you've already eaten. I'll wait by my ship, the _Millennium Falcon_. I believe you'll recognize her. Rupert, I really must thank you. She's a delightful little runner, much faster than I expected. I parked her on the edge of a bog to the north of here. I'm sure you can figure out where. It was the only suitable landing spot I could find for a ship that size. Anyway, that's where you'll find me."

.

.

.

Luke found her, exactly where she said she would be. She was sitting on the gangplank to the _Falcon_, elbows on her knees, chin on her hands, eyes closed. She seemed unaware of either Luke or the large snake that was slithering towards her, until the snake rubbed against her and she brushed it idly away. There seemed to be a weariness about her. But before the impression could fully register, she looked up suddenly, as if sensing Luke's presence, though he couldn't feel any movement in the Force that would indicate she was drawing on it. The smile appeared again, covering whatever it was he had almost seen.

"I was beginning to think," she said, rising, "that I wasn't welcome."

"Why are you here?" Luke asked. "What is it that you want?"

"I want the same thing I've always wanted. I want to be instructed in the Force, and I want you to be my teacher."

"I thought you were already trained."

"Not entirely. There are still...some gaps in my education. Etan Lippa is many things, but he is not the teacher that you are."

"I can only teach you about the Force. I can't make you a Jedi."

"I know that." She laughed. "But I'm not exactly the Jedi-type, am I?"

"And what exactly _are_ you, as opposed to the Jedi-type?"

"I am...myself, Father, a free agent. The Jedi are a community. That's their greatest strength, and why Etan Lippa had to separate them before he could destroy them."

"We're not all destroyed yet," Luke told her.

"No," Brenna agreed. "But when he goes after you and Rupert, he'll make sure you're separated first."

"Like you did?"

"I didn't go after _you_, you came after _me_, remember? And if you'll notice, you and Rupert are still alive."

"I felt Rupert's pain."

Brenna smiled. "Yes…But he _is_ alive, isn't he? And he doesn't look _too_ much the worse for wear, does he? There was no other way out for Rupert, not with Etan so nearby. I saw to it that there would be no lasting effects."

"You erased his memory."

"Better his memory than his life."

"I notice that you didn't include yourself in either group, Lippa's or mine. Which side are you on?"

Brenna raised her eyebrows. "Neither. I side with myself. That's _my_ strength. If there's one thing I've learned from you, it's autonomy. Independence. Unfortunately, even _I_ run into problems I can't solve entirely on my own. So, surprising as it may seem, Father, I need your help. I can't force you to accept me as a Jedi, but I _can_ force you to accept me as your daughter. You owe it to me to help me."

"Help you…to do what?"

"To match Etan Lippa's strength with my own. I won't be his pawn, and right now I'm not in a position where I can challenge him."

Luke held out his arms and took a step towards her. "Brenna, stay here, with me and Rupert. Lippa won't find you. You'll be safe, here."

But she drew back as he came nearer, putting a strut between them. "Don't...touch me, Father."

"You didn't used to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you. Nor did I come here to hide from Etan Lippa. But I can't go back to what I was. Too much has happened. I'm not a child any more, and I have no desire to return to the prison you want to put me in. Or the one Etan wants to put me in. Nor do I want to pretend that there's an affection between us when we both know there isn't."

"There could be."

"I doubt it. At any rate, my answer is no. You taught me that I can say 'yes' or 'no,' and I'm saying 'no.' "

Luke's arms dropped to his side and he tried a different tack. "If you want me to help you, I need to know more than you've given me."

"I've told you as much as I can. The rest will come in due time."

"We have time."

Brenna laughed. "Not as much as you think, but I can't explain any more than that right now. All I require at the moment is an answer to my question: will you teach me?"

"May I have the night to consider it?"

"You'll find me here at sunrise."

Luke nodded, already knowing what his answer had to be.

.

.

.

"You can't do it, Luke."

"I can't _not_ do it."

"I know she's your daughter, but—"

"What are you suggesting I do, Rupert? Send her back to Croyus Four? Battle her with lightsabers until one of us is dead?"

"I don't know," Rupert answered. "I don't know what to tell you, except that she's..."

"Dangerous?" Luke finished.

"Yes," Rupert said. "You, of all people, should be able to sense that."

"If she's dangerous, it's because I've allowed her to become so. Maybe I can undo some of the damage that I've done."

"Don't you see, Luke? She's only trying to increase her strength, to use whatever you give her to her own advantage."

"I know that." Luke said quietly.

"Then for Deity's sake, why—"

"Because the truth is that I _can't_ teach her, Rupert. Anything I have to offer, she can learn on her own, or from Etan Lippa. She's already proven that. But the longer I can keep her here, the better my chances are of turning her back from the Dark path." He made a sound that might have been a laugh if Rupert hadn't known better. "The day she discovers I _don't_ have anything for her will be her last one here...unless I can find some way to bring her back before then."

"And if you can't?"

"Then one of us is dead, Rupert. I can't let her go back to Lippa, and I don't think she'll take kindly to an enforced stay."

The next morning, Luke found Brenna by her ship, dressed in athletic gear. Her hair was pinned up in a practical bun, and she was just finishing her breakfast of travel rations heated in a portable cooker. She seemed...stronger, somehow, than she had the previous evening, and she looked up as soon as Luke entered the camp.

"Good morning, Father," she said, smiling that same impenetrable smile. "You're right on time." She indicated the rock across from her for Luke to sit down. "I'd offer you some of my breakfast, but as you can see, I've just finished."

"I'm not hungry," Luke said.

"I didn't think you were. Do you have an answer for me?"

"Yes," he said.

"Is that your answer to whether or not you'll train me, or your answer to whether or not you have an answer?"

"Both."

"I'm delighted. Shall we get started? Oh, there is one more thing I forgot to mention." She put her hand against her chest. "During the day, I will be your most devoted student." Her hand dropped. "The nights, however, are my own."

"That's a strange request."

"It's not a request. It's a requirement. Otherwise, I'll get in my ship right now, and you'll never see me again. So is it agreed?"

"Agreed." Luke stood up, crossed the step to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "Brenna—"

"_Must_ you do that?" Brenna asked in an annoyed tone. "I assure you, Father, it does _not_ make me feel any closer to you. Nor, I suspect, does it make _you_ feel any closer to _me_. So unless it's required as part of your training procedures, I'd rather you didn't."

Luke let his hands drop. "I just wanted to—"

"To seal our agreement? Your word is enough for me. Mine should be enough for you. Of course, we could seal it with a kiss, but I _am_ your daughter, and I don't think even you are that perverse."

The muscles in Luke's jaw tightened. "That's not how I meant it."

"Maybe not. But it _is_ a little late for affection, isn't it?"

"I do love you, Bren."

She smiled. "Interesting paradox, isn't it? Loving someone you know to be evil. Well, Father, it is only one paradox of many. Here's another one for you: perhaps I have as much to teach you, as you have to teach me."

"Is that what occupies your thoughts these days, paradoxes?"

"I'll tell you what's been occupying my thoughts," Brenna said. "I've been thinking about the Battle of Endor. Imperials who survived that battle have sworn that both Darth Vader and the Emperor were present on Death Star Two during the fighting. A few other sources say that the Emperor was actually _expecting_ the attack. So given all that, I find it hard to believe that the Rebel Alliance could have won. But I actually met an Imperial shuttle pilot who says that you were there, too, as Vader's prisoner. If the Emperor and Vader were out of commission, then I'd say, maybe. So what I've been thinking is that somehow you managed to neutralize both Vader and the Emperor and then escape the Death Star Two before it was destroyed. I'd really like to know how you did it."

Luke smiled. "I'm sure the answer to that would surprise you. I think I'll save it for a later time."

Brenna sighed. "As you wish. I suppose it would be too much to expect the answer to that right away. But one of these days, Father, I hope you will tell me."

"One of these days," Luke replied, "I hope I _can_ tell you."

"Well," Brenna said. "Let's get started, shall we? What's first on the agenda?"

.

.

.

Luke drew the attention of his two students to a trail leading off from the bog. "It begins there. After that, you're on your own. I've marked it with the Force only. Last one back does the cooking _and_ the washing for tonight's supper."

Brenna smiled. To Rupert, she said, "I hope you enjoy doing the chores I used to do as a child."

"Don't overestimate yourself," Luke warned. "The course isn't as easy as you seem to think it will be. Are you both ready?"

Rupert nodded.

"Give the word," Brenna said.

"Go," Luke said.

Rupert sprinted for the lead and was surprised that Brenna didn't try to do the same. He glanced backwards and saw that she was jogging along leisurely. When the path narrowed, he saw why. The going became rough, and in no time Brenna caught up with him by the sheer virtue of the fact that he had to slow down to keep from running into limbs.

So, he reflected, he had wasted some of his energy whereas she had conserved hers.

She made her way right behind him until suddenly Rupert heard her stop. Rupert stopped too, to look. She smiled at him, then headed off the path into swamp-jungle.

"Where are you going?" Rupert asked.

"See you at the end," she said, and disappeared.

Rupert considered following her, but he was _sure_ that the trail led straight ahead. He spared one more glance in the direction Brenna had gone, then went straight ahead, down the main trail.

Brenna finished the course with a speed that indicated to Luke that she hadn't made any mistakes.

"Where's Rupert?" Luke asked.

Brenna shrugged. "He was with me when we started." She helped herself to a drink of water from her canteen, then ran through some breathing and cool-down exercises. Luke thought he detected a hint of a smile before she turned away.

Her attitude of non-concern caused Luke to worry. He didn't _sense_ that anything was wrong, but given the way things were going, he wasn't sure he could trust any of his senses, either, not even his sixth sense. All he was sure of was that Brenna and Rupert had started the course together, and only Brenna had finished...

He caught the direction his thoughts were headed and stopped himself. Just what was he accusing Brenna of? All she had done was finish the course first.

On the other hand, she was the same woman that had reopened Croyus Four.

His daughter.

Luke didn't relax until Rupert finally emerged from the trail, out of breath. "I didn't realize you were going to throw in some false leads," he said.

"I didn't," Luke replied. They both turned to look at Brenna.

"You should have," Brenna said. "The course you laid out was ridiculously easy. And you—" she looked at Rupert. "You should have known better. You weren't using all of your resources. This swamp may be a mud-hole, but it's teeming with life. If you're really a creature-empath, you should have been checking with any and every life-form to verify whether my father had, indeed, passed that way or not."

Rupert looked at Brenna in sudden comprehension. "You made a false trail!" he realized.

"And _you_," Luke said sternly to Brenna, "need to learn when not to interfere. I set this course the way I thought was best. _I'm_ the instructor here, not you."

Brenna was unruffled. "My apologies," she said. "When you said it was to be a contest, I assumed we were to use every resource at our disposal. Are you saying, then, that this was _not_ a contest? And if the point was not to be resourceful, I am at a loss as to what the point was."

Rupert put a hand on Luke's shoulder. "She's right," he said between gulps of air. "I _should_ have checked. I just didn't think of it." To Brenna, he said, "Congratulations. You were most resourceful. Consider the dinner cooked and the dishes washed."

Brenna's smile was almost gracious. "Thank you. However, when I arrived, I did not intend to be any more of a burden than was necessary. I brought my own rations. I shall endeavor, at least, not to increase your work load."

"You're not going to eat with us?" Luke asked.

"Only if you require it, and only during the day, per our agreement. If you don't mind, Father, social graces are not my forte. It must come from being raised on an isolated desert world. So unless you intend to have a survival exercise in native foraging, I would prefer to stick to my nutritionally complete, balanced meal-rations." She smiled and brushed her hands off against each other. "So," she said, "what's next?"

"I think," Luke replied, "that it's time for a rest."

"Well," said Brenna. "Rupert certainly needs one. As for me, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind allowing me access to some reading materials. I understand that your teacher Yoda kept a rather extensive library on the history of the Jedi."

Luke studied her. "How did you know about that?"

She shrugged. "One of your stories?"

"I see. Well, I guess there's no reason to say no—provided, of course, you treat Yoda's books with respect."

"Of course," she smiled.

When she had gone, Luke turned to his other student. "I never told her about the library."

"Etan Lippa knew about it, didn't he? Perhaps _he_ told her, and she just forgot."

"Maybe. But however she knows about it, I think she's looking for something, though I can't imagine what." He stopped himself, then said, "Yes, I can, too. Rupert, I want you to go to the library and tell her I changed my mind."

"Changed your mind?"

"Yes. Tell her...I decided to have you show her the marathon path instead. Tell her I want both of you to run it tomorrow, and if she doesn't know it like the back of her hand, she's liable to end up in a patch of quick-sand."

"All right."

"Oh, and Rupert—"

"Yes?"

"She was right about one thing: you _should_ have used all of your resources."

.

.

.

The sticks were dipped in "sticky juice." That was the name Yoda had given the stuff, and Luke saw no reason to change the moniker. The thick liquid was made by cutting a particular marsh plant into small pieces and then boiling them in water, until the pieces yielded their liquid which mixed with the water to make a foul-smelling, sticky substance. When coated onto a stick about the size of an ignited lightsaber, sticky juice had the dual benefit of simulating the magnetic attraction that two lightsabers would have for each other in an actual dual, and marking the opponent who came into contact with the stuff.

Rupert had numerous marks of sticky juice on him already. Since the current bout began, he had added one across his left thigh, one on his right shoulder, and one on the right side of his head. That last one was going to be especially difficult to wash out, since it was in his hair as well as on his cheek.

Brenna had no sticky juice on her except for a little bit on her hands, where the stuff had run down her stick.

"Lightsabers against seekers, and sticks against people," Brenna said, casually parrying one of Rupert's attacks. "When do we get to go against each other with lightsabers?"

"When I'm sure that you're both ready," Luke replied, frowning at the way Rupert had expended most of the energy needed to pull the sticks apart whereas Brenna had expended minimal energy. "Practicing with lightsabers requires precise control. Otherwise one of you might lose a limb."

"Can't I at least fence _you_ with sticks?" Brenna asked.

"No," Luke replied. "Not yet, anyway. You just missed a riposte there."

"Actually, I've missed three since this bout began. I figured Rupert can use the practice."

"I didn't tell you to hold back."

"Fine," Brenna said with a shrug. She initiated an attack, which Rupert moved to parry, but the attack was a feint, intended to draw him out, and she avoided the parry with a coupé over his stick. Not finding Brenna in his front line, Rupert hastily swatted back in the opposite direction, but Brenna disengaged underneath his stick and struck him squarely on his chest with the point of hers. "That's four," she said, and pulled her stick back as she pulled her body back to her guard position. She began another attack almost immediately, aiming for the lower part of Rupert's front forward leg, drawing another parry from Rupert, then switched her attack to his arm. This time Rupert anticipated the feint and brought his stick up to meet it. Brenna disengaged and went low again to whack Rupert's leg with the side of her stick. "Five," she said, "End bout."

"New bout," Luke said, and reset the score. "Zero—zero."

Brenna won the next bout, and the next, with even less difficulty than she had won the previous bouts. Rupert's frustration at his inability to score a touch had been growing since the exercise began, making his attacks and parries even less controlled. But as Brenna readied a new attack, something inside Rupert finally snapped. Nothing he'd done so far had worked, so he decided to try something else. Instead of parrying her attack, he stepped to the side and avoided contact with her stick. Surprised at finding nothing but air at the point of her stick, Brenna changed the thrusting attack to a remis cut, but at the same time, the point of Rupert's stick found her midriff in a stop-thrust, and they both struck each other simultaneously.

"Halt!" Luke said.

Brenna looked at the sticky mark on her jumpsuit in surprise, then smiled. "Congratulations, Rupert," she said. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"And that," Luke said, "is the point of today's lesson." He turned to the student on his left. "Rupert, you were fencing against a superior opponent, and you still scored a touch. Lippa trained her well. Don't feel bad about losing. Feel good about that last touch." He turned to the student on his right, Brenna. "Rupert scored that touch because of your overconfidence. If these had been lightsabers instead of sticks, you'd both be dead."

"Thank you, Father," Brenna said. "I'll remember that. But I still won the bout."

"Score doesn't really count for anything. When you're battling with lightsabers, it's not a question of who has the most points, but who survives. Now go get cleaned up, both of you. We're through for today."

Brenna tossed her stick back into the pot of sticky juice, looked down at her hands, which were tacky from the run-off, and she headed back towards the _Falcon_ and her shower. Rupert lingered a moment.

"Yes, Rue?" Luke asked.

"How come you won't fight her? With sticks, I mean? If you really want to teach her a lesson about overconfidence…"

Luke ran a hand through his gray hair. "Brenna is up to something. I don't know what. Until I find out, I don't want to play my only trump card. She's good. Very good. But I need to be better. By watching her technique with you, I might be able to learn something that would help me later, whereas if I don't fence her, she won't have that same opportunity."

"_Can_ you beat her?"

"I don't know, Rupert. Right now…I doubt it."

.

.

.

"Mind if I join you?" Rupert asked, poking his head through the library door.

"Why should I mind?" Brenna answered, without looking up from the book she was reading. "Unless, of course, my father sent you to spy on me."

"Why would he do that?" Rupert asked.

"Because he doesn't trust me. That's all right. It isn't necessary that he trust me." Brenna looked up and waved a hand to invite him to the other cushion. "Have a seat. It's certainly more comfortable than stooping the whole time." She went back to her reading.

Rupert sat down and let his eyes roam about the room. "There certainly are a lot of old-style books here. If he'd used a computer, it wouldn't take up all this space."

Brenna looked up again. "Do you intend to constantly interrupt me, or may I continue with my reading?"

"Sorry," Rupert mumbled. He stood up and pretended to read the titles on the shelf.

Brenna sighed, and closed her book. "Let me make your job easier," she said. "There are over eight hundred years' worth of journals in this room, kept by the Jedi-master Yoda. I intend to read every last word written here, to learn whatever I can about every Jedi he ever trained. Who knows? If he was really the seer he was supposed to be, he may even have written about you and me."

"Why do you need to know all that?"

She smiled. "Ah, Rupert. Haven't you ever heard the expression, 'Knowledge is Power'? I had to bargain with Etan to learn the least little thing, and here my father is, handing all of it to me on a silver platter. Most of it, anyway—" she opened the book again to show a section where several pages had been neatly torn off at the spine. "There seem to be some gaps in the knowledge my father is willing to share with me. Funny how it's torn off right here where Yoda starts writing about creature-empaths. I hope _you_ at least know what's on the missing pages. I don't suppose you'd care to share that with me?"

Rupert kept silent. Luke had ordered him not to tell her, and he couldn't help but agree with the reasons.

Brenna closed the book again. "I didn't think you would. I'll just have to go on what little I learned from Etan, and my own observations."

"What sort of…observations?"

"Well, for one thing, I didn't know creature-empaths were so afraid all the time. Until I meet one who contradicts that, or until I find any evidence to the contrary, I'll just have to assume that it's true of all creature-empaths. Of course, since you're the only one left, I guess it's a moot point, anyway."

"Afraid?"

Brenna made a noise of exasperation at Rupert's apparent slowness at catching on and nodded. "You're afraid of the beast-level, the 'Chasm' I believe is what it's referred to. That's why you can't control even the simplest of animals, why you're still a vegetarian, why I beat you at every contest my father sets for us. You're afraid that if you descend to that level, you won't be able to climb back out. You're afraid that you'll _like_ it too much down there."

Rupert started. She had hit the target exactly on the mark.

"Well," she smiled, "the interesting thing is, you'll _have_ to go down into the Chasm if you're to be fully-trained, and I look forward to being there when it happens."

"And if I _do_ pull back up?"

She shrugged. "Then you'll be the Jedi you've always wanted to be." She went back to her reading.

"Why are you here? Are you planning to kill us?"

Brenna turned the page, hardly paying any attention to him. "If that was my plan, you'd be dead. Or maybe we'd both be, if you used that stop-thrust of yours in a real battle. It's a silly, wasteful move. It only works if you know your opponent is going to miss, or if you're willing to sacrifice yourself in order to dispatch your opponent."

"Why _are_ you here, Brenna?"

"I'm here," she said tonelessly, "to catch up on my reading. Now, if you don't mind…"

Rupert fell silent. She _was_ looking for something, just as Luke had suspected. But whatever it was, it had nothing to do with creature-empathy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_The secret of Force_

_You already know:_

_Created by life_

_And life makes it grow._

_._

_But three passions bring danger:_

_Aggression, anger, fear._

_For when they are strongest,_

_The Dark Side is near._

.

Rupert sighed tiredly, exhausted from his long run. The lake seemed like a good place to cool down, and he staggered off towards it without paying much attention to his surroundings. He was already starting to undo the belt that held his tunic together when he saw that he was not the only one who had thought to come here. Brenna was already in the water, swimming around leisurely, not showing a trace of exhaustion even though she had started on the same path at the same time he had, and finished long before him.

All of her clothing was hanging on nearby tree branches.

She sensed his presence and turned around in the water.

"Sorry," Rupert mumbled, turning away.

Brenna laughed. There was a teasing edge to her laughter. "Am I so ugly?"

Rupert turned back. "No," he said. "I just...didn't want to intrude on your privacy without permission."

She swam towards him with smooth, even strokes, a breast—stroke that caused only small ripples of disturbance in the water and left her head above the surface so she could continue talking to him. Apparently she was as at home in the water as she was on land, even though she had been raised on a desert-world. "And you simply assumed that I wouldn't give it? You compound your mistake, then."

"I didn't mean to surprise you."

"On the contrary, it is _I_ who surprised _you_."

She rose out of the water, which ran off her body in a smooth liquid sheet, leaving her naked body glistening with moisture as she stood before him at the knee—deep edge of the lake. Rupert fought to keep his attention fixed on her face. She laughed again. "You may look, if you wish."

"I'd rather not."

"Oh? You don't find me attractive?"

"You know that I do. But only in a physical way."

"And you can't accept the physical attraction without the rest?"

"I find it very difficult. I have too many questions about you."

Her smile, still unreadable, didn't waiver. She took another step towards him. "Ask your questions," she said.

"I already have. You won't give me a straight answer."

"I've given you nothing _but_ straight answers. It's not my fault if you don't understand them. But I'll try to speak in terms you can understand. Just try to keep the questions from getting boring, will you?"

Rupert drew a breath. "All right," he said. "Why are you here?"

She shrugged. "Etan Lippa seeks to control me. I cannot allow that to happen. If I'm to go to him, it will be on _my_ terms. Unfortunately, I'm not quite ready yet. With my father's help, I may soon be."

"He says he hasn't given you anything."

"Not yet," Brenna agreed. "But he will."

"How did you know that your father was still alive?"

She laughed. "I _am_ his daughter, after all."

"Aren't you curious about his escape?"

"Curious? I _arranged_ it."

Rupert started. "What?"

"Of course. You don't imagine that anything like the Afterlife could operate right under my nose without my knowledge, do you?"

"Then why—?"

"Use your head, Rupert. Why do you _think_?"

Rupert thought for a moment, then said, "The whole thing's a set—up. You let the prisoners believe that they really _have_ escaped, and they feel more free to...divulge information that they would otherwise remain silent about, even under torture. So you get an agent on the inside to pump them for information, and..."

"Really, Rupert, you do underestimate me."

His eyes widened as he took the train of thought one step further. "You're Number One," he said.

Brenna inclined her head, clearly amused. "Correct," she replied.

"And yet...you let your father and me go. Why? No, wait. You needed him freed, didn't you? To train you. That much is obvious. But...why me?"

Brenna closed the remaining distance between them and pressed herself against him. "Because, in my own way, I find you attractive."

"That's not the whole reason."

Brenna shrugged. "I knew that if I killed you, my father would never agree to train me. Besides, I happen to prefer you alive than dead."

Rupert forced himself not to move. "Brenna...I need to know what happened back on Croyus Four, before my memory was erased."

"Not much," she replied evasively. "Although you did tell me that you loved me."

Her words stirred a trace some vague, distant memory, but he could not bring it into clear focus. He was on the verge of remembering, but... "Brenna, I have to know."

"I'm getting _really_ tired of your boring questions, Rupert. You'll find out everything eventually, I promise you. But right now, it's my turn to ask _you_ something..." Her hands found their way to the inside of his shirt. "Do you want me?"

Rupert wanted to pull away, but he felt himself responding to her touch. Everything inside him wanted her. He felt drawn to her, as if an irresistible magnet was pulling him to her. It was something he couldn't define, like the memory that wouldn't come. But whether the pull was generated within himself or within Brenna, he didn't know.

She put her mouth near his, not quite touching his, and smiled with the same indecipherable expression. "Do you want me?" she repeated.

"All those people on Croyus Four—" Rupert began.

"Aren't you pleased that not as many are dead as you originally thought? That I'm not quite the killer you first imagined me to be?"

"But the others..."

"The others are irrelevant."

"Etan Lippa—"

"—will be furious when he finds out about the Afterlife, just as he will be furious when he finds that you are still alive. But he does not rule me. How I choose to operate Croyus Four is my own affair, just as whom I choose to amuse myself with is. Now I ask you again: do you want me?" Her hands slipped lower.

Rupert groaned with desire. "Yes," he whispered finally. "Force help me, I do."

Brenna smiled. Without using her hands, she undid the clasp on his belt, and it tumbled to the ground.

Then she took him.

.

.

.

"Good, Rupert," Luke said. "Much better."

The boy panted from exhaustion. Sweat dampened his hair and his clothes. He offered a weak smile. Luke had said he was doing better, but it didn't feel that way. It felt worse. He wanted to cry. The Chasm was closing in on him. He was supposed to be rising above it, but instead he felt like he was sinking under, drowning in the sea of impressions from all the animals, so many of them here. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't move, and Luke said he was doing _better_?

Luke clapped the boy on the shoulder and stood up. Rupert had gotten the naro to obey him, a simple command to go right instead of left, but had nearly gotten lost in the depths of the Chasm. It had taken all of Luke's skill, and all of Rupert's willpower, to bring him back.

Luke wished he had a better idea of how to train a creature-empath. Yoda's notes were as complete as they could be, but there were some things that just couldn't be described in words and put down on paper. Luke was very much afraid that he was missing something, and worried that Rupert would go feral. If that happened, there was very little Luke could do to bring him back.

And then there was Ter Lin.

Ter Lin, the most powerful creature-empath who ever lived, whose students accounted for the largest percentage of successes, who was the only one to come back after going feral, who had, in fact, been trained by accident.

Luke knew the story, of course. Ter Lin had been trained to the point where Luke had trained Rupert on Coruscant. Lin then became a small-time trader who traveled between industrial worlds and spaced frequently. His career was completely unremarkable…until the antique shuttle he had hired developed a malfunction and was forced to crash-land on a jungle world. The pilot, a woman named Alissa Nasokim, was a non-sensitive who knew nothing of creature-empaths except whatever Ter Lin himself must have told her. Stranded on a jungle world with only Nasokim to help, Ter Lin had gone feral. And then, somehow, he had pulled himself back. By the time a rescue party arrived, Lin and Nasokim had carved out a nice little niche of humanity right there in the jungle, and Lin had acquired the skill of being able to control whole herds of different species of animals simultaneously. Lin and Nasokim had later married and had a child and made their home on the same jungle world on which they had crashed. Lin had taken a handful of students, had refused a number of others, and had sworn every one of them to secrecy regarding his methods. It was said that Lin could tell within a few questions whether a student would succeed or fail, but Luke had no idea what those questions might be.

According to Lin, there was nothing special about himself or his abilities. He said that there was a secret, but he was not at liberty to divulge it. He said he would leave documents that would reveal his methods to the Jedi Masters, but those documents never got passed. They were probably destroyed, along with Nasokim and Lin's daughter, by the Emperor Palpatine when Palpatine and Vader went after Lin and the other creature-empaths. With nothing but an army of animals to protect him, Lin was no match for the Emperor's technologically superior weaponry.

So, with the loss of Lin and the other creature-empaths that he trained, the only proven successful methods of training them were also lost, and Luke was left with nothing but the trial-and-error methods from Yoda's notes.

And those, even in Yoda's time, had proven vastly more unsuccessful than successful.

.

.

.

Luke showed them the pebbles, one in each of his hands. "When I throw it up into the air, don't let it touch the ground. You may use any means at your disposal _except_ that you may not touch the pebble with any part of your body. Understood?"

"How am I supposed to keep it up?" Rupert asked. "I'm not a telekin."

"That," Luke replied, "is _your_ problem. Here you go." He tossed the two pebbles high into the air. Brenna caught hers at the apex of its throw, and held it there with telekinetic energy. Rupert's rounded its arc, and came falling back towards the ground.

It looked like it was going to hit. But just before it did, there was a loud "Caw!" that came from the bushes, and a small seed-eating bird swooped across the clearing. Its wingtip nearly brushed Luke in the face, but he leaned back, and was only fanned by air instead. The bird caught the pebble, then beat its wings frantically for height. It gained altitude, caught a wind-current, then circled back and landed on a nearby tree limb. It folded its wings and looked down at Rupert, still holding the pebble in its beak.

Brenna released her hold on the other pebble and caught it neatly in her hand as it fell. "Congratulations," she said. "I concede the victory."

"You're giving up so soon?" Luke asked as she handed the pebble back to him.

She shrugged. "I can't hold the stone up there indefinitely. I mean, I could set it down on a branch, but Rupert could, too. Rupert can control the bird longer than I can hold the pebble aloft. I see no point in drawing this contest out, when the end would only be the same. My time would be better spent in the library—with your permission, of course."

Luke nodded. Brenna started to go, then turned back. "Perhaps one day, Rupert, you may achieve a victory more important than holding stones in the air."

Luke snapped at her. "That was uncalled for!"

"My apologies. I thought I was merely stating a fact, and offering encouragement. I did not mean to detract from the victory. I will, of course, prepare the midday meal and clean up afterwards."

She left. The bird on the limb dropped the pebble as Rupert released the empathic link. "She's right," he said. "This means nothing."

"It _does_ mean something," Luke insisted. "You're learning to use your resources. And not only that, you—" He stopped suddenly, realizing something.

"What?"

"Rupert, let me ask you something. Since Brenna arrived, who's been learning more, you or her?"

"Me," Rupert said. "Why do you—" He looked at his teacher. "You think she's here because of _me_?"

Luke shook his head slightly. "I don't know. But you're learning faster now than you were before, and she's certainly not here for anything _I_ can give her."

.

.

.

"You know," said a voice from behind Luke, "I may just join you and Rupert for dinner tonight after all."

Luke whirled at the first sound of her voice. "I thought you were in the library."

"I've finished."

"Every book?"

"The interesting ones, at least. I skimmed through the 'who begats.' Would you care to test me?"

"No." Luke turned back to what he was doing. "Not right now."

Brenna smiled as she watched him. He was using a conventional knife rather than a lightsaber, because it was more suited to the purpose, but a pencil-thin burn on the marsh-rabbit's neck testified to the cause of its death.

On the other hand, there was also a nasty bite wound on the front of its throat. It probably would have died anyway.

"Well?" Brenna asked.

"Well, what?"

"May I join you and Rupert for supper? I see that tonight is the night, and this is one meal I don't want to miss."

"No, you may not." Luke finished skinning the animal and stood up. He put the carcass into a small sack he had brought with him and left the skin on the ground.

"Mind if I have that?" Brenna asked, nodding to the skin.

"Why do you want it?"

Brenna shrugged. "He'll remember the smell of his first meat. Might be kind of fun, having it around. Maybe I'll make a purse out of it, or something."

"He'll recognize the smell. It won't necessarily mean anything to him beyond that."

"I guess that depends on how well you train him, doesn't it?" Brenna laughed. "Oh, come, Father, I promise I won't do anything more than tease him with it from time to time. Or if you won't give it to me, at least have the foresight not to burn it or leave it for the scavengers. Tack it up on the wall or something, like you used to do with the pictures I drew for you as a child. He might appreciate the nostalgia of it."

"Brenna, I'll make a deal with you. You can have the skin on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You leave Rupert alone tonight. Don't tease him. Don't tempt him. Just…leave him alone."

"Hmmm. Tough bargain. Let's see. Which do I want more…"

"This isn't a game, Brenna. If you're as well-versed in this as you seem to be, you know what could happen to him. I'm asking you to stay away from him."

"You haven't said the magic word," Brenna scolded.

Luke drew in a breath. "Please," he breathed.

"Oh, well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I'll have to. All right, Father, I'll leave your precious creature-empath alone—for tonight, anyway. Now, may I have the skin?"

.

.

.

Rupert was hungry. He lifted the lid of the soup pot and sniffed. "Smells good," he said. He replaced the lid and sat down. "Thanks for volunteering to make supper tonight."

"You're welcome. Do me a favor, and put your pet krail in the cage."

Rupert did as Luke asked. Then his stomach rumbled, and his mouth watered with an eagerness he'd never forgotten. He suddenly realized the cause of his hunger. He looked back at the soup pot in horror. "Meat!" he said. "It's got meat!"

"Yes," Luke acknowledged.

"I can't eat that."

"Why not? Just a second ago you commented how good it smelled."

"That was before I _knew_. Deities, Luke, that animal used to be _alive_."

"I found one that was suffering, Rupert. It would have died within the hour if I hadn't come along."

"And you want me to _eat_ it?"

"It's part of your training. Have you noticed that the only animals you've been able to establish any kind of link with have been herbivores? If you don't want to go all the way, this is your last chance to back out."

Rupert fell silent, and after a moment, Luke spoke again.

"Carnivores aren't evil, Rupert. They provide a balance in nature. If it weren't for the rigas and the pogs, the kinolls and the tempas would multiply without any checks, and eat up every seed and seedling until there were none left. This lush, tropical swamp would turn into a desert even more barren than Tatooine, and the kinolls and tempas would die out anyway, from starvation."

"You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not. I'm merely pointing out what you should know already. And here are a few other facts. Humans have traditionally been hunters. Vegetarians are the exception, not the rule. In fact, our bodies are _desgined_ for hunting. Our eyes, for example. We focus straight ahead, with the kind of depth perception that predators need. Most herbivores have eyes on either side of their head, which allows them to see any movement that might signal danger."

"You didn't tell me I'd have to eat meat."

"Maybe not specifically, but I told you that the training would be extremely difficult."

Rupert shook his head. "No, you don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

Rupert pressed his hands to the sides of his head as if to hold himself together. "It's not—I mean, when I smell it—meat—it smells so good. I get so hungry. It's not the idea of _eating_ meat that's so difficult. It's _not_ eating it. I'm afraid‑‑‑"

"Afraid of what?"

Rupert closed his eyes. "Afraid that I won't be able to control it, that once I get started I won't be able to stop. And the animals—they trust me. How can I betray that trust by _eating_ them?"

"Rupert, I'm not suggesting that you actually eat something you've bonded with, or that you...use your gift to lure your dinner."

"But that's exactly what might happen. When I smell meat...It does something to me. I don't feel human any more, and every time it happens, I feel like my control is slipping a little bit more. If I...give in to the hunger, I don't know what will happen. It's not that I _don't_ want to eat your stew there. It's that I want it too much."

Luke thought a moment, then said, "You know, when Brenna was young, we used to have a naro. I didn't plan on adopting one as a pet—it just sort of found its way into the compound. It was young—just barely an adult—and hungry. So we fed it—just some meat scraps from the table, you know? And then Brenna started making friends with it. At first, I was worried. I mean, here was this wild naro and my three-year-old child. I was afraid maybe he'd attack her, or something. But he was just as gentle as he could be. Even when I stepped on him accidentally, all he did was let out a squeal—but he didn't bite or even nip. He never showed any aggressive behavior—except one time when a couple of Sandpeople came near the compound. Before I could get my blaster to drive them off, the naro was already laying into them with his teeth and his claws—and got himself a blast-burn for his trouble."

"Oh, no. What happened?"

"I took him to town in the skyhopper and paid a small fortune to get him fixed up. After that, I told Brenna she could let him stay in her room at night, and I never worried about leaving the two of them alone together again. We called him Sander because he was constantly licking us with his tongue, which felt like sandstone. He died, eventually, of old age. Brenna was heartbroken when it happened."

"That's a nice story, Luke, but what's it got to do with me?"

"Well, the funny thing about that naro was that he loved meat. No matter how much you gave him, he wanted more. You should have seen the appetite he had. He'd bolt down a whole meal without even bothering to taste it. But he was as tame as a baby lottin."

"I still don't get it."

Luke sighed. "I'm saying, Rupert, that it might not be such a terrible thing to 'give in to the hunger,' as you put it."

Rupert hesitated, then looked at the stew pot. Then he closed his eyes. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Maybe...I'll never have any peace until I do. But..."

"Yes?"

Rupert drew in a breath then took his lightsaber and his blaster and handed them to Luke. "I don't…trust myself. If I…can't pull out of the Chasm, if I turn into something...you know...my parents already think I'm dead..."

"What are you asking me, Rupert?"

"I don't…want to be an animal. And I don't want to live in a mental hospital. If I go feral, you'll make sure neither of those happen…won't you?"

Luke pursed his lips. "Only if I'm absolutely positive there isn't any hope of your coming back."

"Fair enough. What do I have to do?"

"Not much. Just eat your dinner. Would you rather I stayed with you, or would you rather eat alone?"

"Alone. Definitely alone."

"All right, then. I'll see you in the morning." He clapped Rupert on the shoulder. "Try not to forget your table manners."

"Table manners," Rupert mumbled as Luke ducked out of the doorway. He sat for a long moment, resting his forehead in his hand, resisting the temptation to satisfy the indescribable hunger inside him. Then he remembered that that was exactly what he was _supposed_ to do.

He took his bowl from the table and stood up slowly. Then he crossed to the stew-pot, took the ladle from its hanger, lifted the lid, and dipped some of the stew into his bowl. Then he went back to the table, sat down, took his spoon, stirred it, dipped it into the brew. There was a chunk of meat in the first spoonful. Rupert gave a shudder and let the contents pour back into the bowl.

But the smell...

He took another spoonful, only vegetables this time, but the meat broth was there, and decided there was no use postponing it any further. He put the bowl of the spoon into his mouth...

...and the taste exploded across his tongue. The sweet-salty juices of the broth ran over and around his taste buds. The flavor was extraordinary. He savored it for a moment as he chewed the vegetables, then swallowed and immediately replaced it with another spoonful.

In the third spoonful there was a chunk of meat. This time, Rupert didn't dump it back. Eagerly he bit into it, and the tender layers of flesh came apart in his mouth. It was as if the life-essence of the animal he was eating was being transferred to him through its meat.

Rupert groaned with the sheer pleasure of the hunter eating its kill...

.

.

.

In some back part of his brain, Rupert remembered that Luke was somewhere nearby, but he didn't care. For the first time in his life, he felt...free. Totally unfettered by the restraints of human society. Now he was part of the animal world, rich in sights and sounds and smells. There were so many new sensations, and he felt a savage joy as he made himself a part of it. He felt a surge of energy as he mentally joined a flottim as it bounded through the dense greenery after a swamp—rabbit that it really didn't want to eat but chased just for the pleasure of the hunt. He laughed as he empathy-linked with a turr cub that was wrestling with its brother playfully. He felt the blood-lust of a riga as it descended on a kinoll nest hungrily. He purred with the delight of a tree-beast as it found a mate. He howled with the loneliness of another as it called in search of one.

And somewhere from inside himself, as dusk began to fall, he felt his own animal instincts awakening...

Brenna had set up a portable generator and miscellaneous other camping equipment outside her ship. The temperature was starting to drop, and she was sitting on a camp-stool beside the generator, leaning forward to brush her hair from the underside. She flipped her head back and straightened, and her long blond hair fell back around her head in disarray, giving her a wild, savage beauty. The breeze carried her scent to him, and it filled his nostrils. She used no perfumes. There was only the faintest smell of her body-scent and…a touch of blood from the animal he had eaten. Rupert felt a possessive joy in the knowledge that no other human except himself would have been able to detect the smell that was distinctly Brenna, or his first meat, especially from this distance.

She turned suddenly, and looked at the bushes he was crouching behind, as if she could see him through the dense foliage. "Come on out, Rupert," she called. "I know you're there."

Rupert stood up, edgy as a swamp-cat, ready for either flight or fight.

"Come on over here," Brenna said. "I won't bite you."

Rupert came out of the bushes, but he still kept his distance.

Brenna smiled. "I see you've had your dinner. But just in case you're still hungry, I have something here for you." She went to the food automaton she had set up nearby and opened the door. The smell of freshly cooked meat reached him before he even saw the plate that she had reached inside to retrieve.

Rupert wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "I didn't come here for food," he said, barely able to talk.

"I know exactly what you came here for," Brenna replied, moving toward him and holding out the plate.

"How would you know that?"

She laughed. "I'm not a fool. But you, my feral friend, are out of luck. Tonight, anyway. Unfortunately, this is all I can offer you." She held out the plate to Rupert, but he refused it. "I'd take it, if I were you. My father has always had the tendency to overcook everything. Don't worry, it's not any of your friends. I brought it with me from off-world."

Rupert forced himself to tear his eyes away from the steak. "I didn't come here for food," he repeated. "I'm not...some naro for you to tempt away with tidbits."

"Congratulations. But as I said, now isn't the time. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't risk giving you a sensory overload. You're of no use to me if a circuit-chip should happen to burn out." She tapped the side of her head several times with her finger.

"What 'use' do you have for me?"

"My dear Rupert, you'd be surprised. But for right now, I'd just concentrate on the present if I were you. The meat is a gift—no strings attached. You can even have the plate, if you want it. But that's as much as you'll get from me tonight." She moved to him, kissed her own index finger, and placed it on his lips. "You'll get what you want, Rupert. Soon, I promise. But not tonight." She held out the plate to him again, and this time he took the meat. He used his hands to grab it and hold onto it tightly. Then Brenna turned with the empty plate and walked away a few steps, but when she stopped and looked back, Rupert was still there. Her eyebrows raised momentarily. Then she looked down and saw a small rock near her feet. She used telekinesis to throw it at him. "Go!" she shouted.

It hit him hard on the arm. Like a wounded animal, he turned and ran back into the swamp. When he was away from the camp, he stopped and looked at the meat in his hands. He hadn't meant to take it, but...he had. He should throw it away.

But his mouth was dissolving into liquid fire as he imagined how it would taste.

With a cry, he tore into the flesh with his teeth. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the suspicion that he shouldn't, but his senses, not his mind, were ruling his body now. He devoured the steak quickly, not caring that the blood-red juices were dribbling down his chin. It was just barely cooked, but it was also...delicious.

.

.

.

Rupert stirred as he smelled smoke, and when he became awake enough, he realized that there was a blanket over him. He opened his eyes to see Luke nearby, tending the small campfire, and decided immediately that he liked it better being asleep. "Unnnnh," he said, and closed his eyes again.

"Good morning to you, too," Luke replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a fifty ton laser-cannon just went off inside my head."

"It'll pass. You just had a little sensory-overload. Brenna's idea of a practical joke, I think."

Rupert rolled to sit up and realized that his shoulder was sore. He rubbed it, looked at it, and realized that he had a bruise. "What did I do?" he asked.

"Don't you remember?"

"Vaguely."

Luke shrugged. "You ran around and howled a little."

"I think I remember that part. What else?"

"You tell me."

"I think...I remember...Sweet Deity."

"What?"

"I killed something. And...I ate it."

"No," Luke assured him. "That was Brenna. She gave you some meat. All I can say is, thank the Force she didn't give you anything more."

Rupert rubbed his shoulder, remembering now how it became sore. "I...went to her. I'm sorry, Luke."

"What for?"

"She's your daughter. And I wanted her. I don't remember anything else."

"There isn't anything else to remember. After you ate, you ran around and howled, then stopped here and fell asleep. How's your head?"

"Better. It only feels like forty-nine ton blast now." He offered a rueful smile. "I guess we're tied at one headache apiece."

"I guess. Rupert, do you see that turr over there?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you link with it?"

Rupert closed his eyes. After a couple of minutes, he smiled. "Yes," he said. "It's...Luke, it's wonderful."

"Why?"

"She's expecting. Twins, I think. Her den is just on the other side of that large rock there. Her mate—" He turned and nodded to a group of dense bushes behind them. "Her mate is in there, keeping an eye on us."

"Good, Rupert," Luke said. "That's excellent."

.

.

.

Two nights later, it started as a dream. Something restless inside Rupert stirred, and he wanted to go for a walk. He was hungry, but not for food. He wanted something else. It was the restlessness that drove him. He was searching for…something.

Not far away, Rupert's pet krail, which had slithered away from Rupert without Rupert's notice, had started its first hunt. On Tatooine, food usually came to the colony by falling into the pit. It was only when food had not come in a long time when some of the krail would leave to hunt and perhaps start a new colony. But this was not Tatooine, and the krail was hungry for its first meat. It smelled a kinoll, and began to follow the scent trail.

It was hunting.

As the krail hunted, Rupert walked. A swamp-rabbit hiding under a bush up ahead sensed Rupert's approach and panicked. It scuttled across the path in an effort to get away. Rupert sensed its fear, but instead of causing him to pity the poor creature, it excited him. He gave chase to the swamp-rabbit, thrilled by his own speed and ability to track the animal through the dense foliage.

In another part of the swamp, the krail closed on the kinoll.

The going was too rough standing upright, so Rupert crouched, using his hands to brush away branches and other obstacles, and occasionally going on all fours. Without thinking, he launched himself into the underbrush and caught the rabbit. For a brief moment, he wondered what to do with it, much like the krail wondered what to do with the kinoll. Then, like the krail, instinct took over, and Rupert _knew_ what to do with it. It seemed the most natural, most _right_ thing to do in the universe. The rabbit squirmed in his grasp as he bared his teeth and lowered his head. The warm juice flowed into his mouth and streamed down his chin. The rabbit struggled for a moment, gave a final twitch, and was dead, leaving only the taste of blood in Rupert's mouth.

Blood, salty-sweet with faint metallic taste, mixed with the taste of fur and decaying leaves from the underbrush and a million other flavors, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It made him thirsty for more. The warm liquid spilled onto his hands then cooled on his shirtsleeves. The rabbit itself remained warm. It would cool more slowly, but Rupert would become bored with it long before it reached air temperature. He was already beginning to sense, not on any verbal level but on some more basic level, that with the hunt over, the fun was gone.

But the taste, the raw, animal taste in his mouth—it was almost too much to bear. The bond with the krail was broken as Rupert's own senses took over his mind.

With a growl, Rupert returned to his first kill. His hands ripped open the bite wound he had made, and his teeth tore into the soft pink flesh underneath.

.

.

.

In the morning, Luke walked down the path grimly, afraid of finding what he knew he would find. He came to the place where Rupert had killed the swamp-rabbit, closed his eyes, and fell to his knees. The clearing was strewn with blood and fur and pieces of mangled carcass. Luke had never seen such carnage before in the jungles of Dagobah. There was no question but that this was Rupert's handiwork. That much was obvious even without the Force. Rupert's footprints were all over the place. There was even a handprint in the mud, and blood in the handprint.

It had all been for nothing, coming here. He should have known better than to let Rupert talk him into trying. It had all been for nothing. All of it. And there wasn't anything Luke could do. The only thing left to do was either capture him for transport to a mental facility someplace as far as possible from the jungle world, or keep his promise to the human Rupert had once been and end it once and for all.

Rupert had gone feral.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_All strength has an end._

_When your gift finds its limit,_

_Find asylum in mirrors,_

_Take refuge in a pit._

_._

_But you who would enter_

_The cave without fear, _

_In search of a comfort,_

_Will not find it here._

_. _

Luke told Brenna, of course. There was no hiding it from her, and she had to be warned. In his animal state, Rupert was likely to see her as either an enemy or as an object for satisfying his lust. Oddly, she didn't seem surprised. Nor did she seem to care. She just shrugged, thanked Luke for his warning, and asked what Luke had planned for _her_ today. Luke kept his anger in check and replied that he wasn't in to mood to teach.

"In that case," Brenna said, "I'll entertain myself for today. Let me know when you're ready for me. You've got my com-link."

Luke was too stunned to respond. He watched her leave and was still standing there for a few minutes before he realized that she had not headed back to the _Falcon,_ but towards the swamp.

He didn't know whether his decision to follow her was based on his concern for her safety, or for Rupert's.

Brenna found the site where the swamp-rabbit had been killed without difficulty. She could sense Rupert's presence nearby. She looked around the clearing in distaste. "Messy," she said.

There was a rustle in the bushes, and then Rupert appeared in the clearing ahead of her. His eyes glinted with instinct. His clothes were in rags, barely hanging onto his body, torn to shreds by his rampage through the underbrush. There was little human intelligence behind his eyes.

"Much too messy, Rupert," Brenna said. "I'm very disappointed."

She turned to go, but Rupert thrust his arm out and pressed his hand against a nearby tree to block her. He pushed his face near hers, but she turned away and ducked under his arm. "No," she said, walking away.

Rupert grabbed her wrist, but Brenna pulled it free.

"I said, 'No!'" she repeated sternly.

Rupert grabbed her arm this time, and Brenna used the momentum to swing her free hand around and slap his cheek hard with her open palm. "No!"

Brenna walked calmly away, and for a moment, the sting from the slap froze Rupert where he was. But then he realized she was leaving, and with an inhuman roar lunged for her. The force of his attack knocked them both to the ground. As they rolled, her lightsaber detached from her belt and went a different direction, and he landed on top of her. He pinned her wrists with his hands and her legs with his knees and growled.

"Rupert!"

It was the sound of Luke's voice that made Rupert look up, not the calling of his name. He saw Luke moving towards them, but didn't register who Luke was. For a moment, Rupert bristled, ready for a fight.

Luke's stride never broke. Anger hardened his features. "Let her go!"

Rupert hesitated. A part of him recognized Luke as his superior, his teacher, the alpha male. Another part wanted to fight, to challenge Luke's leadership.

Luke advanced with his hand on his weapon.

Rupert couldn't remember exactly what the lightsaber was or what it did, but he sensed the threat and turned and ran. Out of sight in the bushes, he turned and watched as Luke swiveled to give his attention to Brenna. Luke's anger didn't recede, but Brenna didn't turn and run. A part of Rupert registered that fact in awe. She was even more powerful than Luke. The Alpha female was superior even to the Alpha male.

Brenna stood up and brushed herself off. "Careful, Father," she warned. "Rupert's likely to murder you in your sleep."

"Stay away from him, Brenna."

"Is that an order?"

"It's…a warning. I might not be there next time."

"_Next_ time?" Brenna said. "I didn't need you _this_ time?"

"Not from what _I_ saw. Don't underestimate Rupert. He's a lot stronger than you think."

"Don't underestimate _me_!" Brenna returned. She raised her hand, and her lightsaber flew into it. "I had the situation under control. You don't really think my weapon came loose by _accident_, do you? Just because my weapon isn't in my hand doesn't mean I can't use it." She opened her palm, and the lightsaber spun away, igniting as it flew, and sliced through the limb of a nearby tree. The branch fell to the ground, leaving an ugly scar on the tree where it had been.

Luke stared at the tree. The lightsaber turned itself off and returned to Brenna's hand.

She laughed at his expression. "Don't worry, Father. I wouldn't have done any _ permanent_ damage to your precious creature-empath. Just given him a nasty burn. Something to think about if words couldn't get through to him."

"You goaded him into that."

"No. He did it all by himself. Your star pupil needs to learn some manners."

"He's not my star pupil."

Brenna made a noise of approval to show her appreciation at his recognition of who the 'star' pupil really was, then amended, "Your _prized_ pupil, then."

"You're _both_ important to me."

"A very diplomatic response."

"What are you up to, Brenna?"

"Nothing. Like I said, he did it all by himself. But from what you said earlier, it did look like you could use a hand with the rest of his training. That's why I went looking for him."

"What 'rest'?"

"You know. The _rest_.."

"There is no 'rest,'" Luke said. "Rupert failed. We both did."

"What, you don't mean to _leave_ him like that?"

"I don't have a choice. Once a creature-empath goes feral, there's no turning him back."

Luke thought he saw something in Brenna's eyes, surprise or confusion, but if it was there, it was quickly masked. "Well, then, you won't mind if I have a go at him."

"You…want to train Rupert?"

"Why not? If what you just said is true, you've got nothing to lose by letting me."

"And you think you can do it?"

"If a non-sensitive can do it, then I can do it. I'll just follow the same general principles outlined in the diary I read."

"What diary?"

"It belonged to some woman named Alissa Nassokim. She seemed to know a lot about creature-empaths."

Luke stared. "You have Alissa Nassokim's diary?"

"Actually, _had_ is the operative word. Etan had it and let me read it. Before he found out about Rupert, of course. No doubt I'd never have gotten my hands on it had he known about Rupert—it's not like Etan to give me anything of real _practical_ value—and I didn't want to seem overly interested, so I gave it back."

"Would you share what you learned with me?"

"Oh, I don't know if I should. After all, you're so stingy with _your_ information, it doesn't seem quite right."

"Brenna…please?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely… According to the diary, _all_ the creature-empaths went feral. It seemed to be an expected part of the training process."

"And afterwards? After they went feral, what happened then?"

"Then it was matter of giving the creature-empath a reason to be human. The problem with the Chasm is that it's too attractive. Rupert likes it down there." Brenna shrugged. "I can see his point. There are a lot of advantages to being an animal. No responsibilities, no accountability, no moral repercussions. What does the human side have to offer compared to that?"

"There are a lot of advantages to being human," Luke said. "Rupert knows that. Or he did."

"Such as? Forgive me, Father, but even _I_ have difficulty seeing the advantages. From Rupert's perspective, anyway."

"Such as food—"

"Not with _your_ cooking. You might do better to put me in charge of the meals, but given Rupert's abilities, he doesn't ever have to go hungry."

"Art, an appreciation for beauty—"

"Art and beauty are abstract concepts. They're part of what separates humans from animals, but I'm talking about the physical pleasures of being human, something Rupert can really relate to when he's in the Chasm. Shelter might be something you could use, except that Dagobah's too temperate, and I don't think you'd want to take the chance of Rupert's freezing to death on someplace like Hoth. Offhand, I can only think of a single advantage of being human that would work on this jungle world of yours."

"And that is?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I think you already know. It's sex, of course. The common denominator between animals and humans. Next to food and shelter, basic survival needs, it's the need to procreate and reproduce that drives an animal. In the human realm, sex has been elevated to something of an art form, but the basic desire is still there. The promise of it, the withholding of it, can be used as a tool…especially for someone like Rupert. And…" She pretended to look around. "Goodness me, there's only one human female on this planet of yours, and that's…_me_. I can help you with Rupert. That _is_ why you didn't just kick me offworld the instant you saw me, isn't it? So you could dangle me in front of him?"

"I never‑‑‑"

"It's all right, Father. I'm not blaming you. I'd probably do the same thing in your shoes. Unless I miss my guess, you were using a line like, 'You'll never see Brenna again unless you straighten up and fly right.'"

Luke's jaw pulsed the way it did whenever he knew Brenna was trying to goad him into something. He turned away to hide it. "I wasn't specifically referring to you. I was trying to use the concept of 'woman' in general."

"But why use the abstract concept, when you've got the real thing right here? _That's_ the secret in Nassokim's diary. Mated creature-empaths have a better chance than unmated ones, but only if the mate is strong enough to help in the training. The success of the training depends on the mate, not on the creature-empath."

"Ter Lin was unmated."

"So he led everyone to believe. He was unmated when he crash-landed with Nassokim. He _was_ mated before he went feral. The problem was, Nassokim was Cartinian. If it was ever learned that she had mated with Ter Lin without the sanctity of her homeworld, her family would have been ostracized."

"Surely Ter Lin could have told the Jedi Council—"

"Loyalty to his mate made him defy even the Jedi Council. Before they were rescued, Nassokim elicited his promise not to tell _any_one, including the Jedi Council."

"Well, Rupert's unmated, so it really doesn't make much difference anyway—"

Brenna raised her eyebrows. "Didn't he tell you? My, my, my."

"Tell me what?"

"That he's already lost his virginity."

Luke whirled to face her in shock. "To you?" Luke asked.

"No, to some four-legged creature hanging around this part of the swamp. Of course to me!"

"You promised you wouldn't interfere—"

"And I haven't, not with your training. On the other hand, Rupert and I were both consenting adults. As such, our private lives are none of your concern."

"None of my—when Rupert's status of being mated or unmated affects his training, it _is_ my business."

"In that case, Father, I'll remind you that it takes at least two to play Sabaac. Having had sex with Rupert has absolutely no affect on _my_ training, and I don't like to gossip. It was Rupert's responsibility to tell you, not mine. I thought he had. But just to show you there are no hard feelings, I'll still do whatever I can to help."

"Oh, you've already done more than enough," Luke said.

"I can see you're still angry with me. But my offer is genuine. Don't let your anger towards me condemn Rupert. Nassokim trained Lin by instituting a sort of behavior modifcation program. There's no reason I can't do the same for Rupert. Come, Father, surely you must agree that this is one aspect of Rupert's training for which I am eminently better qualified as his instructor."

"So you're planning to use sex to gain control over him?"

"Oh, no," Brenna laughed. "I've already _done_ that. Actually, I was planning to use sex to help Rupert gain control over _himself_. Which you were already trying to do, and failing at, I might add. So tell me, is it true that a creature-empath can't hurt his mate?"

"Yes," Luke replied.

Brenna made a noise. "You said that too easily. I suppose I'll just have to test the notion to learn whether it's actually true. Should be interesting to find out. But…I'll wait until after he's trained."

"Why are you so interested in Rupert?"

Brenna shrugged. "You taught me not to waste anything. On Tatooine, it was water. Here, it's a creature-empath. Rupert's a potential asset. An animal is of no use to me whatsoever. But a fully-trained creature empath—one who is loyal to _me—_now _that_ might prove to be very useful indeed."

At least Luke now had an idea of why Brenna had come to Dagobah, but he wasn't sure he liked it any better than leaving Rupert in his feral state. Having become Rupert's mate, Brenna was planning to use that status to assure his loyalty to her, perhaps even turn him to the Dark Side. Luke had advised him to stay away from Brenna, had ordered him to, in fact, and Rupert had mated with her anyway.

And Rupert hadn't told him.

He couldn't sense anything from Brenna through the Force, except a general sense of her presence and a vague sense of Darkness. He had once glimpsed Palpatine's innermost soul, but with Brenna all he could feel was in generalities.

All Luke could do now was wait.

Wait for Brenna to do whatever she was going to do. Wait to see what would happen with Rupert.

He had never felt so useless.

Brenna exercised inside the _Falcon_ until she was nice and sweaty. Then she took a walk, down the paths Rupert was most likely to be near, marking them with both her physical scent and a Force-trail. After parading around, she left her sweat-soaked shirt on a landing strut and returned to the interior of the _Falcon_.

Eventually Rupert found her trail and followed it. He found the shirt, snatched it, and inhaled the odor deep into his lungs until it became as much a part of him as his own skin.

His mate was nearby.

"Hello, Rupert."

It was the sound of the voice, not the words, that made him turn arouned. He recognized it as the sound of his mate, not as his name being spoken.

She was standing at the top of the gangplank, just inside the main hatch, wearing her undertop and sweat pants, full of scent. "It's very rude of you not to return my greeting. Let's try again. Hello, Rupert. How are you?"

With a growl of lust, Rupert charged up the gangplank. Brenna didn't move. He was almost to her when something knocked him backwards with enough force that he landed at the bottom of the gangplank. He blinked in surprise.

"You see?" Brenna said. "Acting like an animal will get you nowhere. If you act like a human being, you might just get what you want."

Her words penetrated at some level even though Rupert didn't understand their exact meaning. What he got from them was the feeling that he was doing something wrong.

"If you want me to come out and play, you have to at least return my greeting. Hello, Rupert."

With an animal cry, Rupert picked himself off the ground and hurled himself at her, only to be repelled again and knocked even harder to the ground.

"No!" Brenna said sternly, as if addressing a misbehaving pet. "That's not how to get what you want."

Rupert charged her again, with the same result.

"You know," Brenna said, "this is getting tedious. How in the galaxies did Alissa Nassokim put up with this nonsense?" She studied her nails and ignored Rupert entirely as he tried to charge her again.

After umpteen times of picking himself up and charging her, he finally realized he wasn't getting anywhere. Instead of running up the gangplank again, he approached it more cautiously, and as he approached the hatch, extended his hand cautiously towards Brenna.

She looked up. "Well, now, that's a little more interesting." She waited until he touched the energy field she had turned on and jerked his hand back, and watched as he looked on all four sides of the hatch for some way around the field.

"It won't do you any good," Brenna said. "I'm the only one who can turn it on or off. But if by some chance you can figure out how to deactivate the field from out there, I'll let you have the whole prize right here and now."

Her words meant nothing to him other than the tone, which was calm and disinterested, alpha superior.

"No?" she said after a moment. "I didn't think so." She went back to studying her nails.

Rupert let loose a howl of frustration.

"No!" Brenna said sharply, angrily.

Rupert stopped.

Not having the patience of Alissa Nassokim, Brenna put as much Force-meaning as she could behind her words. "Say my name, Rupert. Say my name, and I'll come out. Just say my name."

This time, Rupert understood her words as well as her tone, not words as abstract individual vocabulary, but the knowledge that if he wanted to remove the invisible wall between them, he had to…say her name.

Brenna saw the faint spark of comprehension in his eyes, and smiled. "You understood? Good. Now go away, and don't come back until you can say. My. Name." She slapped her hand on t he button that activated the hatch panel, and it slid down between them, adding a touch of finality to her words that even Rupert could understand.

The next day, he was back. He didn't know how to get her. All he could do was pound on the door in frustration. But it was enough. Eventually the hatch slid open, and she was there. This time she was wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt. Her scent wasn't as strong as it had been before, but it was still there, through the soap.

His mate.

"Good morning, Rupert," she said. "Are you ready to talk to me?"

He reached out a tentative hand. The electrical field was still there, and he jerked it back.

"Now, now, Rupert, that's not how to get what you want. If you want me to come out, you have to say my name."

Rupert understood. The act of trying to remember her name and saying it to himself over and over had pulled him a little higher out of the Chasm.

"What's my name, Rupert?" she asked.

"Buh…ren…na."

She raised her eyebrows in interest. "Better," she said, "but not quite. Say it again, all together."

"Bren…na."

"Say 'Hello, Brenna.'"

"Huh…lo…Bren…na."

"Hmmm." she said. "I suppose that will do." She reached for the switch to deactivate the energy field and stepped out of the hatchway. She started to pass him before he realized that the invisible barrier between them was no longer there, and lunged at her.

He knocked her to the gangplank, and they rolled down it into the soft spongy ground. He landed on top of her, pinning her.

She moved to get up, but he held her down.

"Congratulations, Rupert," Brenna said. "You've won. You've got me. What now?"

His leer told her what now.

"You better be damn sure about this, Rupert, because if you get your way—_if—_which I highly doubt—you'll only get it once. You might get what you want today, but tomorrow I'll be gone. You'll never see me again. I don't mate with animals, Rupert. And I don't sleep with any man unless I choose to. Unless _I_ choose to."

His gaze became uncertain, showing that he understood part, at least, of what she was saying. But then the creature-lust filled him again, and he growled.

"You'd better let me up, Rupert. Before I get angry."

Some part of Rupert realized that the clothing that covered her was in the way. He released one of her hands to fumble with the cloth, and got a slap across his cheek. "Let me up, Rupert, or the next time I'll hit you with a stone instead of my hand."

Rupert grabbed the hand and pinned it again. His brain finally realized that he had a problem. He had to let go of her to get rid of the cloth, but if he did, she would slap him again. The thought made him angry, pulling him back toward the bottom of the Chasm, but the knowledge that he had a problem pulled him up again, ever so slightly, and so he hovered there, just off the bottom.

Then a thought came to him, and he used his upper arm and elbow to pin her arm, and give himself some slight mobility with his hands.

_Wham!_ Out of nowhere, a small rock flew at him and hit him on the shoulder. Rupert cried out in pain, but didn't let her go. Another rock hit his opposite shoulder. Brenna smiled up at him.

Rupert endured the pummel of rocks until he finally realized that he had shelter nearby—the underside of the gangplank. He grabbed Brenna's hair and rolled off her, then forced her towards it like a primitive cave-dweller, at which level he was currently functioning.

Brenna raised her eyebrows, and aside from wincing at having her hair pulled, showed very little alarm. "Good idea, Rupert, but are you sure it's worth it?" She turned her head as much as she could towards the trees and called out, "You _could_ help, you know!"

Her father's voice called back, "I thought you didn't need any help."

"Just trying to save Teacher's Pet from a nasty burn!" she returned.

Her lightsaber jumped from where it had landed after her and Rupert's roll from the gangplank, but then stopped in mid-air as her father pulled it in the opposite direction. "Fine," she muttered. "If that's the way you want to play it…"

She brought her knee up hard into Rupert's swollen groin. The pain and shock caused him to let go of her hair, and she scrambled away far enough to get some momentum behind an elbow blow to his ribs. She was about to follow-up with another elbow to the side of Rupert's face, when strong hands grabbed Rupert from behind and pulled him back away from her.

"There's no need for that," her father told her.

"I thought you weren't going to help."

"I never said that." He looked at the howling, struggling animal in his arms and wondered, "Now what do I do with him?"

Brenna brushed hair out of her eyes. "Take him over to that strut," she said, indicating one of the supports for the gangplank. "And watch and learn."

Luke did as she told him, and watched as she produced a pair of binders from her utility belt. He frowned. "I'm not sure I approve."

"Why not? Nassokim zapped Ter Lin with a stun gun before she tied him up. I _could_ knock Rupert out if you want to follow her methodology exactly, but I figured it was the gist of the method rather than the specifics that are important." She bound Rupert's wrists together around the strut with the binders, then nodded to Luke to let him go.

"It's not very humane. I'm not sure what the point is."

"It's more humane than letting him live like an animal for the rest of his life! And the point is to make sure he knows that if he acts like an animal, he'll get treated like an animal. But if he acts like a civilized human being, he's more likely to get what he wants."

Rupert struggled in the binders like some wild thing caught in a trap.

"Now what?" Luke asked.

Brenna shrugged. "We leave him there until he calms down. You can stay with him if you like, but I'm going to go take a nap. He'll be hungry after a while. We might be able to talk to him then."

Several hours later, Brenna emerged from the _Falcon_ bearing a tray of food and a few medical supplies for Rupert. At Brenna's motion, Luke withdrew slightly.

Rupert had calmed down since she had gone inside earlier, but now her scent agitated him, and he started to struggle.

"Stop it, Rupert!" she ordered, "or you won't get to eat."

The speech penetrated at some level. He looked back and forth between Luke and Brenna, the two alphas with so similar blood-scents, but only one was his mate. He stopped fighting wildly and merely strained against the binders.

Brenna set the tray down, picked up the medical supplies, and went behind Rupert to examine his wrists. She tsked at where he had rubbed his skin raw trying to get free, and sprayed them with an antiseptic/anesthetic. Rupert's face relaxed a little in surprise at the alleviation of the pain, and she rubbed an ointment on the wrists that would speed up the healing process. Then she walked around to his front and squatted to his level. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "If you're hungry, nod your head."

Rupert made no motion, just looked at her.

"If you're hungry, Rupert, nod your head," she repeated. "Otherwise, I'll just go away again until you _are_ hungry."

She waited, but there was still no response. Brenna shrugged and picked up the tray and started back towards the gangplank. Seeing that she was about to leave, Rupert's head jerked up, then began to nod down and up in a violent motion.

Brenna shot her father a half-smile, and set the tray back down. "I didn't even demonstrate that for him," she told Luke, as if Rupert wasn't even there. "He got it just from the words."

Luke was impressed. But understanding a few simple words was a far cry from becoming a human again.

Brenna squatted and scooped up a spoonful of guaco bean gruel from the bowl. Rupert's mouth closed around it, and she pulled the empty spoon back out. Rupert immediately opened his mouth, and Brenna made a face. "Swallow what you've got, Rupert, and then I'll give you some more."

Rupert swallowed, and Brenna spoon-fed him until the bowl was empty. Rupert sat back against the strut with a tired sigh.

"Do you plan to keep him bound there for the rest of your training?" Luke asked.

"Not really," Brenna replied. She reached into her utility belt and tossed Luke the key to the binders. "Wait until he falls asleep, and then you can unlock him. I don't want to do it while he's in an animal state—might reinforce the wrong concept."

"What if he wakes up while I'm unlocking him?"

"He won't. I put a sedative in his dinner." She smiled at Luke, then picked up the tray and headed back inside the _Falcon_.

.

.

.

Rupert didn't return the next day. Luke was worried, but Brenna seemed unconcerned. He showed up on the day after, eyeing the ship warily, remembering the unpleasantness of being bound to the strut the last time he was here.

Brenna raised the metal hatch door and smiled at him through the protective energy field. "Good morning, Rupert. I missed you yesterday. How are you this morning?"

He looked at her suspiciously, wanting her but not trusting her.

"You're quite right, Rupert," Brenna said. "I'm not that easy. You can't just…throw me to the ground and have your way with me. It doesn't work like that. But don't despair. Your case isn't hopeless. You already know how to get me out of the ship. Wouldn't you like to learn how to get more?"

"Huh…lo…Bren…na."

Brenna immediately slapped the switch to turn off the energy field, and stepped out of the _Falcon_.

Rupert started growling as she came nearer.

"Careful," Brenna warned. "Remember what happened the last time?"

The growling ceased. Brenna smiled. "Now. Wouldn't you like to know how to get more?"

Mutely, Rupert bobbed his head up and down. The movement was less jerky than it had been when she asked him if he was hungry.

"That's the spirit!" Brenna said. "Actually, getting to first base isn't all that tough, although scoring a home run might be a little more difficult. All you have to do is…talk to me."

Rupert growled and advanced. Brenna held up her palm. "_Human_ speech, Rupert. I don't mate with animals."

The growl died away as Rupert stopped in his tracks. With great effort he managed to speak two words, climb an inch or two more out of the Chasm. "Like…this?"

"Better, but not quite. I like a man who can whisper sweet nothings in my ear."

"Sweet…nothings?"

"Tell me I'm beautiful, stuff like that."

"You're…beautiful." Rupert said.

"Your pillow-talk could use a lot of improvement. I don't like a man who stammers. Say it again."

"You're beautiful," Rupert said.

"_How_ beautiful?" Brenna asked.

Rupert thought for a minute. The simple act of searching for the right word helped him climb another inch. "Ve…Very beautiful."

"Pathetic," Brenna said. "I won't sleep with a man if that's the best he can do, but I suppose I might…let him kiss my foot." She slipped her foot out of her sandal and held it out with her toe pointed.

Rupert fell to his knees and took it in his hands and licked it, absorbing her essence with his tongue, but when his hands and mouth started moving up her leg, she jerked her foot back and kicked him in the mouth. He landed on his rear and looked up at her, rubbing his mouth. Desire mixed with fear in his eyes.

"_Only_ the foot, Rupert. If you want any more, you'll have to do better." She slid her foot back into the sandal, then added, "Next time."

She held her hand palm out in a signal that even a trained mortu would understand. "Stay." Then she turned and strode leisurely back into the ship.

Rupert stayed, like a well-heeled mortu. If he followed, he knew that he would get nothing. He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. He could taste different things. Besides the blood from his lip where she had kicked him, he could taste the dirt from the path she had walked earlier, decaying leaves and animal tastes from where she'd left the path, a faint sweetness from a patch of moss she had passed over, and through it all, the sweet-salty taste that was _her._

Brenna.

His mate.

He would have to do better next time.

.

.

.

Brenna sat on a rock at the edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the water. She sensed Rupert's presence and smiled without looking up. "Good morning, Rupert," she said. "How are you today?"

"You're very beautiful," Rupert said. He had been practicing his speech, and it came out without a stutter.

Brenna lifted a foot out of the water and offered it to him. He kissed it, then licked it to find her taste through the pond scum and fish and other aquatic creatures, stopping just at her ankle. He kneeled there, caressing her foot, uncertain of how to proceed, and looked up at her with hungry eyes.

"You want more?" Brenna asked.

He nodded and, without taking his eyes off her, licked her foot again.

Brenna smiled. "I like a man who has a poetic soul. Do you have that, Rupert?"

He nodded mutely, holding her foot to his chest possessively.

"All right," Brenna said. "You say I'm very beautiful. But how beautiful _is_ that? What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

Rupert thought for a minute, searched for the words. "You…are," he said finally.

Brenna laughed. "Nice try, my feral friend, but not poetic enough. What's the _second_ most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

Rupert cradled her foot and sat back on his haunches. He had to think. He searched the old memories for the most beautiful‑‑‑no! The _second_ most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Finally, he found it. "Cor…ru…scant…Coruscant."

Brenna raised an eyebrow. "Coruscant? That filthy, overpopulated city-planet? You think _that's_ beautiful? I don't have to be very beautiful to beat _that_.." She pulled her foot back.

Rupert was in a panic. She didn't understand, and his simple vocabulary was inadequate to explain. "No!" he said.

"You think Coruscant is beautiful?" Brenna asked.

Rupert nodded.

"How is Coruscant beautiful?"

"The…lights," Rupert managed. "From space…Coming…h-home."

"Oh," said Brenna, softening a little. "So the _lights_ of Coruscant are beautiful. What do they look like, Rupert?"

"Like…lights…"

"Surely, you can do better than that, can't you? Saying that the lights look like lights isn't very poetic. I like men who have poetry in their soul, Rupert, not men who think that lights look like lights."

"They look…bright…in the darkness. Like…" he searched his memory. "Like…glass—" he found a better word "—like crystal…buildings…" He searched and found a better word. "I mean…pal…aces…es."

"And I'm more beautiful than that?" Brenna asked.

Rupert nodded.

"Then tell me. Tell me the whole thing."

Rupert swallowed. "You're…more beautiful than…the crystal…palace…lights… of Coruscant…that shine…bright in the darkness…when you're…coming home."

Brenna smiled. "That was very pretty, Rupert. Maybe there _is_ something poetic in your soul, after all. For something as pretty as that, I might let you…kiss my hand."

.

.

.

Luke sat inside the hut near the hearth with his head in his hands. He had not seen Rupert, except at a distance, since Brenna bound him to the landing strut. After that, Brenna had insisted on meeting Rupert alone, saying that she would get further faster without Luke's interference. And Brenna—who knew what she was up to? She had Rupert wrapped around her little finger. She did seem to be helping the boy, but to what end Luke couldn't be certain.

"Luke?"

Rupert's quiet voice from the doorway made him look up in surprise. So the boy had found his capacity for speech, after all!

"Luke, I need your help. Will you help me?" The boy's tone and body language were supplicant, yielding to the Alpha. Luke was impressed.

"Come in, Rupert," Luke said.

The boy entered tentatively, still submissive.

"How can I help you?" Luke asked.

"Would you…teach me some math? I can't remember how to do it…"

"What sort of math?"

"If I can…add fractions, she'll…let me touch her hair."

Luke thought quickly. Brenna was handing him Rupert on a silver platter, and if she was using Rupert's need for her to help pull him back to humanity, then Luke could use Rupert's need for _him_ to help him learn to descend into the Chasm and ascend out of it at will. "I see," he said. "Well, I suppose I could manage something. But I'll require a payment first."

"What kind of…payment?"

"I'm tired of rations and vegetables, Rupert. I think some nice, fresh swamp-rabbit would be nice."

"Swamp-rabbit," Rupert said.

"Fresh. And not all mangled like the last kill I saw of yours." Luke turned his back to the boy and waved a hand in dismissal. He didn't turn around again until after he heard the boy leave.

It was two days before Rupert approached Brenna again. She smiled and said, "Hello, Rupert," and made a show of primping her hair. "Do you know what one third plus one fourth is?

It took Rupert a few moments to figure out the answer in his head. Finally he said, "Seven twelfths."

"Is that more, or less than, one half?"

It took him another couple of seconds to figure that out. "More," he said.

Brenna made a noise of approval, and turned the back of her head to him. "Come feel how soft my hair is. But don't pull. Only an animal would pull, and I don't like animals."

Rupert ran to her and buried his hands and face into her hair. Brenna let him play with it for a moment, then made a show of sniffing the air. "What _is_ that smell? Where is it—Why, Rupert, it's coming from _you_." She pulled away. "I like a man who knows how to keep himself clean for his lady. I _don't _like animals who never bathe. You're not an animal, are you, Rupert?"

"No," he said, after a moment.

Rupert returned the next day, washed, shaved, and dressed in a clean change of clothes. Brenna wondered vaguely what price her father had exacted to bring about this transformation. Rupert also carried a bouquet of wildflowers.

"Rupert!" Brenna gushed, "You look—and smell!—so much nicer. Not like an animal at all. Oh!" She pretended to notice the flowers. "Are those for me?"

Rupert thrust them out to her. She took them, smelled them, pulled one out, and laid the others aside. "Will you put this in my hair for me?" she asked, offering it to him.

Rupert took the flower, and she tilted her face up. His hands and face lingered in her hair as he carefully tucked it behind her ear.

"That was a very sweet gesture to bring me flowers. Was that your idea, or my father's?"

"My. Mine." He said.

"Well, it was very thoughtful, a very…human thing to do." She kissed him on the cheek, and the place where her lips touched burned his skin.

Then she tilted her head down, lifted her hair from her neck and looked at him sideways. "Do you think my neck is pretty?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. Then, with a little difficulty, he added, "As pretty…as…the moon…shining on water."

Brenna made a noise of approval and kissed him on the other cheek. "Very nice, Rupert. But flowers and poetry aren't the only things a girl likes to receive."

Rupert frowned. "What…else?"

She shrugged. "Some jewelry might be nice. If my neck is as pretty as you say, don't you think it deserves a necklace?"

"No…jewelry store here."

Brenna scrunched her face. "Anyone can _buy_ a necklace, Rupert. And a bought necklace is so…ordinary. I want an _extraordinary_ necklace. A living necklace. One made out of…krail."

Rupert's expression turned to one of distress.

"What's the matter, Rupert?"

He started to gesture, but she held her palm out. "In words. Tell me what's wrong in words."

With effort, he managed to get out, "I…lost…the krail."

"_Lost_ it? Well, then, I suppose you'll have to go _find_ it again, won't you?" She caressed his cheek with her palm. "Do be careful, Rupert, won't you? I'd hate for you to get bitten."

.

.

.

Three days later, it wasn't Rupert, but her father who approached the ship.

"Well," said Brenna, smiling as she moved down the ramp to meet him. "How's our prize pupil doing?"

"He's managing," Luke replied. "Barely. You don't think you could give him a task that's a little less dangerous, do you?"

Brenna shrugged. "If he's managing, why should I?"

"He'd almost been bitten twice, trying to catch the krail, before I could convince him that using his hands was not the best method. It's made a kill, now, so it's harder to control than it used to be. In fact, he can't control it at all in the daylight. He wants to bring it to you tonight, but any distraction, and he'll lose his control. And _you_ are a major distraction. To him, anyway."

"Thanks for the warning. Was this warning for _his_ sake, or mine?"

"Both. You know that."

"I guess what I'm really asking is whether you would do for me now what you did for me on Tatooine."

"I know what you were asking," Luke replied. "And yes, I'd do it if I had to. But I'd rather not have to."

"'If you had to'? That's hardly an unqualified 'yes.'"

Luke raised his eyebrows. "If you were bitten and you couldn't neutralize the poison yourself, then yes, I would do it."

Brenna laughed. "You're as imperturbable as ever. It might be worth getting bitten just to see if you actually _would_ do it."

"I wouldn't recommend it. I might not be close enough at hand when it happened, and then where would you be?"

"More to the point, where would _Rupert_ be? Without me to pull him out, he'd drop right back to the bottom of the Chasm, where even _you_ couldn't reach him."

"Don't imagine motives that aren't there. I'd do it for reasons that have nothing to do with Rupert. I'd do it for the same reasons I did it back on Tatooine, because I love you, and I don't want to lose you."

"How touching. Based on how much I've seen of you these past days, I'm surprised you remember I'm even here."

Luke spread his arms. "I've held my arms out to you before," he said. "I hold them out to you again."

"Save the sentimental tripe for Rupert. I'm sure he appreciates it more than I do. I'm talking about a fencing lesson, or _some_thing."

"All right. I'll give you a lesson right now." Luke motioned her to sit on the gangplank, and sat beside her. "Close your eyes," he said.

Brenna obediently closed her eyes.

"Do you hear that chirping, coming from about fifty meters to your right?"

"Yes," Brenna replied.

"They're baby lakas, calling for their mother. Do you hear her answering song, coming from straight ahead?"

"Yeah, I hear her."

"She's reassuring them that she'll be right back, that she's only gone for food, that she hasn't abandoned them. That's _life_, Brenna. That's the Force. That's what the Jedi are all about. Birth and renewal. Hope for the future."

Brenna sighed. "Did you happen to notice _what_ food she's bringing back for her babies? A dead teta bug that she killed herself. It was alive a minute ago, and now it's not. And did you happen to hear that rustling to our left a little while ago? That was two male rigas fighting over territory and mating rights. One of them is dead now. The other will mate with the female that's nearby, and undoubtedly produce more rigas, who will grow up to fight other rigas, maybe even each other, over another female. That's the other side of your coin, Father. You can't have birth and renewal without death. The one makes room for the other. They depend on each other."

Luke could not deny that. "But they balance."

"Of course they balance. Tip the scale towards the birth side, and death soon catches up. More mouths to feed creates a greater demand on the food supply—even for the herbivores—which eventually gets depleted, and then you have starvation. The only way you could eliminate death would be to eliminate birth. And in that case…you would have no life. So in the end, death is the ultimate winner."

"Not…necessarily. People—human beings—are different. We're luminous. Ones I've loved have died, and yet I've been able to see them, hear them, talk with them _after_ they died."

"I'd like to see that. Can you call up one of your dead friends now?"

"No," Luke admitted. "It doesn't…work like that."

"I didn't think so." Brenna stood up. "Have Rupert come to me tonight. I'll make sure he doesn't get _too_ distracted."

.

.

.

Than evening, Rupert approached the ship with the krail aloft.

"It's nice to see you, Rupert," Brenna gushed. "Is that for me?"

"Your…necklace." He held it out.

"Put it on the rock will you? And then step back."

Rupert put the krail on the rock and stood back.

Brenna smiled. "You do realize that if it bites me, I would die. And then you'd be out of luck in a big way."

Rupert nodded.

Brenna walked over to the rock, sat down next to the krail, and stroked it. The krail hissed. Brenna looked up at Rupert with raised eyebrows. Rupert closed his eyes, and the krail calmed down. Brenna picked it up and looped it around her neck, cooing to it and talking to it as if it were a baby. Then she said to Rupert, "Now _that_ is a necklace. Don't you think it's a nice necklace?"

Rupert nodded, his eyes still closed.

Brenna tsked, took the krail from around her neck and placed it back on the rock. She stepped away, and Rupert opened his eyes. "What's the point of having such an extraordinary necklace if no one can see it? Bring it back during the _day_, Rupert, when you can control it with your eyes open. I want you and my father both to see what a wonderful necklace the krail makes."

.

.

.

Little by little, Rupert was coming back from the Chasm. Each time he returned to Luke, Brenna had given him a more complex task, and each time he returned to Brenna, he was able to descend into the Chasm and pull himself out a little higher.

Luke wondered whether she'd be able to hold Rupert off indefinitely. As the boy regained his humanity, he would eventually grow tired of the game, and either choose the human side or the Chasm. Brenna was working Rupert with promises, but whether Rupert's ultimate goal was actually attainable, or just an empty promise, Luke didn't know. Each task seemed to bring Rupert closer to the prize, but whether that was real or an illusion remained to be seen. Regardless, for the moment, Brenna's method was working.

From the bushes, Luke watched Brenna toy with the snake that dangled around her neck in broad daylight. "Rupert, what's sine three pi over two?" she asked him.

"I don't know," Rupert said.

"If you can answer that, I'll let you kiss me on the cheek."

.

.

.

"What's sine three pi over two?" Brenna asked.

"Negative one." Rupert replied with only a slight hesitation.

"Good. Very good. And sine pi?"

"Zero."

"What about cosine three pi over two?"

"Also zero."

Brenna smiled and turned the side of her face to him. "Very nice, Rupert. I like a man who knows his math. You may kiss me on the cheek."

"Top, or bottom?" Rupert asked.

Brenna looked at him, then burst out laughing. "Very good, Rupert. I like a man with a sense of humor. Top, of course." She waited for him to give her cheek a quick peck, then held out her hand. "Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

.

.

.

"Can you play chess, Rupert? I like a man who can play chess. Especially a man who can _beat_ me at chess. If you can beat me, I'll let you kiss me on the mouth."

Rupert stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.

Brenna frowned. This wasn't the response she was expecting. She stood up, went to Rupert, and trailed a finger down his arm. "Wouldn't you like that, Rupert? I'll even raise the ante. If you can beat me at chess, I'll let you kiss me wherever you like. I like a man who can beat me at chess."

"And _I_," said Rupert, "like a woman who knows when enough is enough. I'll play chess with you, but not for those stakes."

Brenna raised her eyebrows. "What stakes would you like to play for then?"

"The whole prize you keep holding just out of reach. Not your foot, or your hand, or your hair, or your elbow, or your neck, or your mouth—but _all_ of you."

"Interesting. And what if you lose? What do _I_ win?"

Rupert looked at her. "Name any task," he said, "and I'll do it."

Brenna smiled. "Very well. Let's play, shall we?"

The game lasted well into the night. The players were fairly evenly matched, but in the end, the one who had been trained to play chess ever since she was a child by none other than Luke Skywalker himself, won.

Rupert tilted his king in acknowledgement of her victory, then sat back and spread his hands. "You win. What task would you have me do?"

Brenna stood up, moved behind him, and leaned over him. "Dear Rupert, I _am_ impressed. No temper tantrums, just a simple admission of defeat." Her hands moved to the inside of his shirt from the neck opening and caressed his skin.

Her hands were like fire on his body, and Rupert longed to be burned. He found it hard to concentrate. "What…is your task?" he asked again, with difficulty.

Her mouth brushed against his ear as she whispered, "Would you kill my father for me?"

Her hands circled lower, and Rupert had to swallow before he could answer. "No," he said. "It was just a game of chess, after all."

Brenna pulled her hands out from his shirt to lay them on his shoulders with the cloth between their flesh. "Just checking," she said, laughing. "All right, Rupert, I'll make it a task you won't mind so much, but it may be rather difficult for you, I think. Stand up."

Rupert rose to his feet slowly.

"Turn around."

Rupert turned to face her.

Brenna licked her lips as her eyes lowered from his face to his chest. She used the Force to pull his shirttails from his pants, and slid her hands underneath, palms against his skin once more. "Now," she said, "I want you to make sweet, romantic love to me. No biting, no pulling, no poking, no animal rough stuff. I want you to worship me. Worship me with your mouth, your hands, and your body. Do you understand me, Rupert?"

"Yes," he breathed.

"Can you do that, Rupert?"

"Yes," he whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

.

_All choices bring doom._

_The battle cannot be won._

_You cannot protect many._

_You can shield but the One._

_._

_Is the Dark Side then stronger?_

_To it will you yield?_

_In the heat of the battle,_

_Which One will you shield?_

_._

When Luke saw Ben in his dreams, it usually meant he needed some gentle guidance. When he saw Yoda, it usually meant he needed a kick to the side of his head for being stupid about something.

This time, it was Yoda.

When he woke, Luke wouldn't know if it had been his subconscious speaking to him, or an actual visitation. In the end, it didn't really matter, because the message was the same.

"Know all the answers do you?" the dream-Yoda had asked.

"Not this time," his dream-self had admitted ruefully.

Yoda had chuckled gleefully. "But the simple answers know you already."

"Simple answers?"

"To the simple questions."

"Simple questions?"

Yoda blew out a sound of annoyance, then asked, "Why are you?"

"What?" Luke asked.

"Why are you? Why exist do you?"

"I'm…not sure I can answer that. Not easily."

"Complex the question is. Complex the answer. But a more simple question there is. _Where_ are you?"

"I'm here. On Dagobah."

"Ah. Simple the answer is. Simple the question, simple the answer. Ask not why. Ask _where_."

"Ask where," Luke had repeated dutifully.

Then he woke up.

For a moment, he was a little disoriented, still half asleep. "Ask _where_," he repeated aloud. But where _what_? Where was he? He was here. On Dagobah. In Yoda's old hut.

No, that wasn't it. What difference did it make where _he_ was?

Where was Rupert, then? Rupert was here. On Dagobah. Sleeping outside on a patch of soft moss. Luke could sense his presence in the Force, right where it was supposed to be. That wasn't the right question, either.

Where was Brenna?

Brenna was here. On Dagobah. Sleeping in her ship—no, wait. Luke snapped fully awake and frowned. No, she wasn't in her ship. In fact, he couldn't sense her presence _any_where on Dagobah. But that was absurd, of course. She was here, somewhere. The notion that she would wait until he was asleep, go off-world, and return before he woke was just too ridiculous to contemplate. Luke threw on his robe and his boots.

_Where was Brenna?_

He had the feeling that if he could answer that question, he would learn the answers to a number of others.

He headed off to the _Falcon_, just to be sure…

Rupert awoke when Luke shook him. "What is it?"

"Do you know where Brenna is?"

Rupert sat up. "She's not in the _Falcon_? That's where she sleeps, isn't it?"

"No. I checked. The ship's there. Brenna isn't."

Rupert's brow's furrowed. "That's strange. Where else could she be?"

"I don't know. But I have a feeling that it's important for me to find her."

Rupert reached for his tunic. "I'll help you look," he said.

.

.

.

They found no sign of Brenna. Finally they separated, to search different areas of the swamp. Luke had no idea why it mattered, yet at the same time, he was certain that it did.

Then he realized, there was only one place she could be.

Taking a portable lamp and nothing more, he followed the old trail to the cave and lowered himself through the tree-root opening. At first he thought that he was wrong. No one would ever venture willingly into this black hole, much less spend her nights here. But he needed to check, just to make sure.

And then, once he was inside the hole, he knew that she was here. There were voices. As he took a step deeper into the cave, the murmuring grew louder. He couldn't distinguish the voices or what they were saying. But he was aware that more were being added. His own subconscious was adding to the cacophony.

In the deeper part of the cave, the voices became a dull roar. But there was no sight to accompany the sounds.

And then, suddenly, there was.

A glow that was either generated by something in the cave, or something in his own mind, suddenly became visible to Luke's left, and in that glow, clear as if the cave had been mechanically lighted, Etan Lippa stood.

He was as Luke remembered him, except somewhat older. This must be how he appeared to Brenna. But the eyes were the same. Luke felt his heart beat faster and the adrenaline pump through his body, but he knew it was an illusion, generated by the cave. A vision, nothing more than a reflection of his own mind and feelings.

Or Brenna's.

Lippa laughed.

After a moment, the vision faded away. But the laughter remained behind—humorless, evil-sounding, and cold.

Luke took a few steps forward, deeper into the cave.

"Luke..."

The voice made Luke turn instantly. "Master Yoda!"

Yoda looked at Luke from a deathbed of decades ago, from before Brenna was born.

The Ancient struggled with the effort of one dying, but who still had an important message to impart. "Luke...the Force runs strong in your family...Pass on what you have learned..."

This was Luke's own memory. There was no way Brenna could have known about this. Yet the fact that he was experiencing the vision now meant that somewhere, in the back of his head, he'd been thinking about it.

"Pass on what you have learned..." the old master said again, and then the vision faded back into darkness. The voice became part of the general murmur.

Further into the cave, it was Ben Kenobi. But unlike Etan Lippa or Yoda, Ben spoke words that Luke had never heard before, a rhyme Luke didn't recognize, in a tone that was devoid of emotion. "Light becomes Dark," said Luke's first teacher, "In a backwards time when...A Shield casts a Shadow...And the dead live again."

Luke frowned, memorizing every word. The visual and auditory memories had to have been his own, since Brenna had never seen Ben Kenobi or heard his voice. But the words...they had to come from Brenna's mind. His own thoughts and feelings were mixing with Brenna's to produce a kaleidescope of images that were mixed and matched.

Ben faded.

Luke tried to bring him back, but despite his best mental effort, the image of Ben Kenobi would not return. There was nothing left to do but go forward.

He was in the deepest part of the cave now. Then he saw his daughter. At first he thought it really _was_ her. But when she spoke, in another rhymed riddle, he realized she was just another illusion. "The last of one line...The first of another...Skywalker's end...New destiny's mother."

Luke decided to try asking the image a question. "Brenna, what does that mean?"

But the ghostly image merely repeated the words, fading to nothingness with only the voice remaining.

Then it was Rupert, continuing the weird poem. "For Jedi take heed...The prophecy know...Daughter of Light...To Darkness' son go."

As Rupert faded into blackness, a new image took its place. This time, it was Darth Vader, his voice as toneless as the others despite the mechanized breathing apparatus and voice box. The image had to be Luke's, since Brenna had never met him, but the words were from somewhere else. "And you who would enter...The cave without fear...In search of a comfort...Will not find it here."

And then, the Emperor himself, Palpatine. It was only a vision, of course, but it still stirred a Coldness within Luke, even before he heard the rhyme. "For the Emperor's blood…And a Skywalker bride…Will together engender…The grand-sire's pride."

He didn't like the sound of that rhyme, but he wasn't able to analyze it any further. Yoda had appeared again, but not the Yoda Luke knew. This was a different Yoda, hardly recognizable to Luke except for the fact that this Yoda was short, green, and had large ears. Luke almost laughed. This was what Brenna must have imagined Yoda to look like. Her version was an armor-clad warrior, not the wizened old whatever-it-was that Luke had known. But the vision's tone, when it spoke, was one of warning, not of instruction: "The old age will be ended...And a new one begun...As Skywalker's daughter...Loves Palpatine's son."

And then there was a young girl, Brenna as a child, innocent, ignorant of any evil. The child's sing-song voice and the wide blue eyes were in stark contrast to the coldness of the question she asked: "To struggle against...The prophecy's will...Can a parent's heart harden...And own offspring kill?"

The rest was even more fragmented. All around him, faces materialized, wherever he looked. Some of the faces he recognized-students he had sent into this cave, now ghosts of dead friends-some of the faces he didn't. There was an old man Luke didn't know, whose face was incredibly sad. He even saw himself briefly. The visions all spoke in rhymes. Luke could catch snatches of what they were saying, but could not make any sense of it.

"‑‑‑Creator of Darkness"

"‑‑‑One I've not met"

"‑‑‑Defense is pretense"

"‑‑‑Author of Shadows"

"‑‑‑Take refuge in a pit"

It was too jumbled. He couldn't even piece the riddles together to form a question.

He saw Brenna again. The vision was a memory that he recognized, but whether it came from himself or Brenna, he didn't know, since it was shared. Like the first vision of Yoda, it spoke not in rhyme, but in actual words he remembered. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?" Brenna's image asked him. "Why didn't you tell me I wasn't good enough?" And then, she was just another one of the voices.

Then Luke saw something he didn't think was a vision. It was so faint, like a mist, really, and it made no sound. It was just...there. He could just see it when the visions glowed near it, then it disappeared again when the visions became dark. But unlike the visions, it returned when a vision appeared, then disappeared again, hovering near the floor of the cave at the back, at the deepest part.

Luke ignored the confusion of voices, and stepped closer for a better look. He unhooked the portable lamp from his belt, and turned it on. As he bent down shined the light towards the mist, he saw behind it a sleeping figure.

Brenna. The real Brenna, not a vision.

She was stretched out on the ground with only a thermal blanket between her and the cold stone floor. She was completely naked, her clothes folded into a small, neat bundle next to her. The only thing else of hers visible was a small pack that she used as a pillow. If she had brought any kind of light with her, it was still in the pack.

She stirred as the beam of Luke's lamp illuminated her face, then opened her eyes.

She blinked, and the visions-all of them-stopped. The voices became suddenly silent. Even the mist seemed to dissipate. Then Brenna gazed calmly into the light as if she had been expecting him.

"Hello, Dad," she said, in a surprisingly soft voice.

"Bren...what are you doing here?" He had slipped into using the familiar form of her name, then realized that it was a response to her saying "Dad," not "Father." She had not used that familiar form of address since the time she had fallen into the krail pit.

"Waiting for you." She sat up and pulled the blanket she had been sleeping on around her shoulders, effectively covering herself.

"You knew I would come?"

"More or less. Or actually, I should have said, sooner or later."

"Seems like a pretty noisy place for sleeping."

She shrugged. "You get used to it."

Luke glanced around the cave. "I can sense you here, almost. But there are too many images for me to know exactly what you're thinking or what you're feeling."

"Good."

"Good?"

Brenna smiled.

"This cave doesn't frighten you?" Luke asked.

She raised both eyebrows. "Should it?"

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"I know what it _does_, at any rate. _How_ it does it is beyond me."

"Humor me," Luke said.

Brenna looked around the cave. "It's a...natural Force-reflector of some kind. A hall of mirrors, if you will. The outside projects a kind of coldness - or rather, a nothingness, like death - while the inside reflects the thoughts and feelings of whoever enters it. Reflects and distorts so that whatever is reflected back looks very different from the original image. There's really nothing here except one's own thoughts and fears."

"So you have no fears?"

"On the contrary, there are some things which frighten me very much, but not my own reflections. As for the rest...like I said, you get used to it. It's actually a pleasant change to have the voices _outside_ my head instead of inside. The noise doesn't bother me."

"Tell me about your fears."

Brenna laughed. "I assure you, Father, I would if I could. But now isn't the time."

So they were back to 'Father,' again.

Luke tried to fathom the implications of her answer, then suddenly comprehended something else. "_This_ is why you came here, isn't it? You didn't need my training at all. You needed this cave."

"Very perceptive of you, but not completely accurate. In fact, I _do_ need you. And Rupert, too. And I did come here to learn. But you're right about one thing. Except for helping things along with Rupert, all that so-called 'training' has been...mere play-acting. I needed some time alone in here." She looked around. "I suspect this cave is why Yoda chose Dagobah for a training ground in the first place. There may not be another place like it in the whole galaxy."

"Tell me why this place is so important to you."

"Well, Father, I'll let you figure out the answer to that for yourself. But I'll give you a hint. It has to do with my Force-talent. Do you know what that is?"

Luke knew the answer to that, of course, but he didn't see how it explained the cave. "You're telekinetic."

"Well, yes and no."

Luke was taken aback. "'Yes and no'?"

Brenna smiled again. "Yes, I am telekinetic, but no, that wasn't the answer I was looking for. How well do you know your history, Father? Have you ever heard of a boy named Seth Andros?"

"Yes," Luke replied, puzzled. "His parents were both Jedi. Vader wiped out the entire family when the child was still only a preschooler."

"But what made that boy special? In all the chronicles that Yoda and the great masters before him kept, what made Seth Andros different from any fully-trained adult Jedi before or since?"

"He...showed signs of having two predominant talents instead of just one: telepathy and psychokinesis." Luke studied his daughter. "Are you saying that _you_ also have a dual talent?"

Brenna shrugged. "Just because something is rare doesn't mean it can't exist. In fact, Seth Andros might not have been the anomaly, but the norm. All I could learn for certain is that Force-sensitivity seems to be a genetically-linked phenomenon. There have been so few intra-order unions that it's impossible to know just what the general tendency of offspring between two Force-sensitives would be. In answer to your question, yes, I have two dominant Force-talents."

"There would have been some sign..."

"_Au contraire, mon pere_. Just because you and Etan Lippa haven't figured out yet what my other talent is doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Would you care to take a guess?"

"All right," Luke said, thinking aloud. "Assuming that you do have two...I'm pretty sure you're not a telepath."

"Correct. I can project and receive only the simplest messages, and it requires absolute concentration. No, I'm not a dominant telepath."

"You're not a precog, either."

"No, although I sometimes _wish_ I were a seer. I can sense the truth of a statement, especially when it concerns myself. But I've never actually had any visions myself. So far, Father, you've only mentioned talents I could have inherited from _you_. I _did_ have another parent, you know."

Luke stared at her. "Sweet Force," he murmured. "You're a Shield."

Brenna bowed her head in acknowledgement, clearly amused.

"But I always felt your presence when you were little. You never shielded from me."

Brenna shrugged. "I had no reason to use my shield until you started to forbid me from using the Force. Even then I didn't really know I what I was doing. I just knew I had to be secretive about what I did. So you see, you were training me after all, and didn't even realize you were doing it."

"I thought it was an atrophy of your sensitivity. Those times when you were frightened—I thought you were drawing on the Force for reassurance—"

"—When actually I was letting my guard slip," Brenna finished. "What you perceived as 'atrophy' was actually a strengthening of my self-control."

"But you haven't shielded since Lippa started training you."

"Haven't I?" Brenna asked. "And has _he_? Do you think for one minute that I'd let Etan Lippa know what I really am? He hasn't taught me any more than you have. But I haven't been idle. I've been teaching myself, mostly through a process of trial and error. It hasn't been the easiest thing in the galaxy, when you consider that before coming here the only person I've been able to test my skills on has been Etan. But I can create a false presence around myself, and even put a shield around someone else for a short period of time."

"Brenna...all a Shield does is cover a Force-presence. A Shield can't project a false image."

She shrugged. "I must be different then. Maybe it's a function of being a Shield _and_ a Telekin. And how much do you really know about Shields, anyway?"

Luke took a moment to study her last response. What she'd said about herself was not outside the range of possibility. But he'd felt her through the Force. The nature of shields was that you _couldn't_ feel them. But if she was telling the truth... He looked around the cave and realized, finally, why she was here. "You came here to _rest_," he said.

"It hasn't quite been a vacation, but this is the only place where I can let down my guard without you, or Lippa, or anyone else knowing what I'm really thinking and feeling."

"Why didn't you tell me you were a Shield? Or that you needed the cave?"

"What, and spoil all the fun of letting you find out on your own? Besides, the longer I could stay down here unnoticed, the further along I could train Rupert. Now, however, your finding me presents a whole new set of problems. Not unexpected, you understand. Just…different.

"What sort of problems?"

"Oh, come, Father. Haven't you felt Etan poking around the fringes of your consciousness, just dying to pick up any stray thought or two? And then there's a tiny matter of my having promised to kill you before I go back to Etan, which needs to be fairly soon now."

Luke wasn't shocked that she had promised Lippa she would kill Luke, only surprised that she would admit that much to him now. He raised his eyebrows. "So you're planning to kill me?"

"I pretty much promised that I would."

"And I've always tried to teach you to keep your promises," Luke said dryly.

Brenna laughed. "I'm glad you appreciate my situation. But in any case, I see only one course for this ship you and I are on to take."

"What course is that?"

Brenna leaned forward, shifting her weight to her elbows. "Play-acting aside, there _is_ something I need for you to teach me. But not out there," she tilted her head towards the cave opening, "where outside minds can penetrate. In here, where our privacy is guaranteed."

"Teach you what?"

"How you managed to defeat both Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine."

Luke thought back to when Brenna first arrived on Dagobah, and Luke had agreed to train her. She had asked about Vader and Palpatine then. _One of these days, Father, I hope you will tell me_, she had said.

And he had replied, _One of these days, I hope I can._ Aloud he asked, "And in return? What would _I_ get?"

"Straight answers to all your questions about me. No games. No lies. No…sidestepping. No skirting the issues. You'd learn all my secrets. Straightforward answers."

"What's the catch?"

Brenna sat back up straight again, effectively increasing the distance between them again. "The catch is that my secrets can never leave this cave. Which means that _you_ can never leave this cave once you know them. Not alive, anyway. Or at least, not until I've used whatever knowledge you give me to defeat Etan the way you defeated Vader and Palpatine."

This time, Luke _was_ shocked. "You're asking me to stay in here _forever_?"

She smiled. "Not for_ever_. For _life_. Yours or Etan's."

"And if I decline your offer?"

"Then I'll leave here in the morning. I'll make up some excuse as to why I couldn't kill you, that I wasn't ready or whatever. You'll have Rupert all to yourself, but I suggest you keep a tighter rein on him than you did on Coruscant, because if he returns to Croyus Four without my protection, Etan will likely want to make _certain_ he's dead by cutting off his head, or something."

"Aren't you afraid of Etan Lippa finding out that you asked me how to destroy him?"

Brenna laughed. "If there's one thing Etan understands, it's the attraction of power. If he learns that I've asked you, and you declined to teach me, it will just reinforce his belief that he's indestructible, which may very well be correct. On the other hand, if you accept my proposal, he'd probably never know I asked—or at least, he wouldn't know until it was too late. But then, you'd have _me_ to contend with."

"Is that what you want, Brenna, to take his place?"

"Until our agreement is sealed, I don't have to give you a straightforward answer. In fact, I'm not even sure you would be able to _understand_ what I want."

"Try me. Tell me what you want."

She shrugged. "Part of I want…is what any daughter wants. I want a father to listen to me, to help me with my problems. A father to whom I can tell anything."

"So talk. I'm listening. If I agree that your secrets need to stay here, then I'll stay here."

Brenna shook her head. "I haven't finished. I want more. I want to know that you love me. More than you love Rupert. More than you love yourself, or your religion, or anything else."

"In other words," Luke said, "you want unconditional love."

Brenna smiled. "Exactly."

"You have that."

There was a slight smile at the corners of her mouth. "From Rupert, maybe, if you can call what he feels 'love.' Maybe even from Etan. Never from you."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? There have always been limits to your love. As long as I obeyed you and did what you wanted, then you would hand out measured doses of affection. But that's not what I'm talking about."

"You're confusing love with approval. The fact that I might disapprove of something you do doesn't mean that I would stop loving you, or even that I _could_ stop loving you. I've always loved you, Brenna. Unconditionally."

She shook her head. "All I have is your word for it, and you've lied to me before. I want proof. Proving unconditional love requires making a great personal sacrifice"

"So you want me to prove it to you by spending the rest of my life in this cave?"

"The question you asked me, Father, was what do I _want_, not what do I _expect_. I _want_ you to prove your unconditional love for me by teaching me how you dealt with Vader and Palpatine. I don't necessarily _expect_ you to. Your love would _have_ to be unconditional, because all I can give you in exchange are the answers to a few questions, and life within this dank cave."

"I had hoped...that we might be able to come to some sort of reconciliation."

"It still may be possible. You've heard my terms. The choice is yours."

"What about Rupert?"

"Aren't you pleased that I haven't even _tried_ to convert him to the Dark Side?"

"Yet," Luke added.

Brenna shrugged. "He's safe, as long as he remains ignorant of certain things. And I think I've got him sufficiently housebroken so that his next mate won't mind him so much."

Luke frowned. Rupert's _next_ mate? Brenna apparently didn't know _everything_ about creature-empaths. Aloud, he said, "And if he does find out about these 'certain things'?"

"Then he'll join you here. My powers, much as I would wish otherwise, are limited. There are certain risks which I cannot afford to take."

"You're asking for a lot," Luke said, "and you haven't given me anything in return. Give me something to prove your sincerity, that I'd actually get the straight answers you're promising. You haven't given me one since you got here."

"Unconditional love asks for nothing in return!" She sighed, then softened her tone. "But I suppose I can spare you a little tidbit, as a gesture of good faith." She rummaged around in her pack and took out a small information storage unit. She tapped a few keys on the punch pad, and a file appeared on the small screen. "Call this...a promissory note. I wouldn't fool around trying to open any other files, if I were you," she warned. "It's rigged to wipe the entire memory if the wrong password is entered more than twice in a row."

"What's the matter, don't you trust me?"

"No. Nor do I trust Etan. But if you agree to my conditions, I'll give you the passwords to access any files you like."

Luke read the file. It was a list of factual information about Palpatine and Etan Lippa, plus a few odds and ends of information, none of it about Brenna.

"This isn't very much," Luke said.

"It's the best I can do under the circumstances," Brenna replied. "So which is it to be, yes or no?"

Luke pressed his fingertips together. "Tell me, Brenna, is there any point to this, besides proving my unconditional love for you?"

"Of _course_ there's a point," she replied, a little annoyed.

"Which is?"

"I'll tell you if you agree to stay here. That's one of my secrets."

"And is there any hope for a reconciliation between us?"

She smiled. "Anything's possible."

"All right, then. My answer is yes. But I'd like to pack a few provisions, first."

"I can provide you with anything you need. But, if you want to bid Rupert a fond farewell, then by all means do so. It may be quite a while before you get to see him again.

Luke made no reply, but stood up and started to leave.

"Oh, Father?" Brenna said.

Luke turned.

"You still have time to change your mind between now and when you get back, but after you learn even one of my secrets, there's no turning back. But just in case you're thinking about changing your mind, there's something else you should know. Like I said, if you decline, I'll leave in the morning. You can consider Rupert a gift, a son in place of a daughter, which you've probably wanted all along. Things will go back to what they were before, except that Etan will eventually learn about the Afterlife, of course, and then there will be nothing I can do for the Croyus Four survivors. The choice is yours."

"You'd put the fate of the Afterlife on my shoulders? That's hardly fair."

Brenna shrugged. "I'm merely pointing out the facts. The Afterlife is growing every day, and the bigger it becomes, the more difficult it is to hide. Eventually it will reach a size too large for even me to disguise. In fact, it could already have reached that point. Of course, I could close off the Afterlife, let Croyus Four return to being the death camp it was meant to be, while the Afterlife is still of a manageable size. But I don't think you'd like that option any more than the other."

Luke studied her for a moment. Then, with no other words, turned and left the cave.

As soon as he was gone, the voices returned. Etan Lippa glowed into being. "For the Emperor's blood...And a Skywalker bride...Will together engender...The grand-sire's pride...Descendent of Dark…And of Jedi will mate…And a new line of heirs…In the Force will create."

"Yeah, yeah," Brenna muttered. "I've heard it all before." She reached for her clothes and began putting them on.

Then another Etan Lippa materialized, seemingly from the wall itself. This one was a little different from the others, darker, and did not speak in rhyme. "Are you going to show him the prophecy?"

"Maybe. I doubt he'll understand it, anyway."

"He'll know he's going to die."

"Not unless he kills me first. Besides, you probably already told him, when I was asleep." She finished dressing and looked down at the faint white mist that was forming in front of her, about waist-high. "What about you? Did you tell him anything?" She caught her hair and pulled it back into a clip. "What a stupid question. Of course, you didn't. You can't even talk."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

.

_Now, Reader, take heed;_

_The prophecy know:_

_Daughter of Light _

_To Darkness' Son go._

_._

_The last of one line,_

_The first of another;_

_Skywalker's end,_

_New destiny's mother._

_._

"You're kidding, right?" Rupert said when he heard Luke relate Brenna's terms, knowing full well that Luke was deadly serious.

Luke didn't bother responding to the rhetorical question. "That's not all. She can control the visions in the cave. To what extent, I don't know. At the very least, she can block them. I've never known anyone who was able to do that. And there's more." He gestured with one hand to the small hand-held computer Brenna had given him, which was now sitting on the table. "She gave me that."

Rupert picked it up.

"Don't bother reading it," Luke said. "I have to take it back to her."

"What is it?"

"It's a log she's been keeping. It tells about Etan Lippa, how he was born, how he was raised... Back in the days of the Empire, Palpatine had Vader routinely inspect the Prisoner of War camps, including Croyus Four, for female prisoners who were Force-sensitives. These he transferred to special camps on the Emperor's private strong-holds. Brenna documents the existence of five such camps."

"Why?" Rupert asked. "I mean, why would Palpatine want them?"

Luke paused in his packing and turned to Rupert. "Breeding stock," he replied grimly. "Palpatine forced them to bear his children. But apparently, he wanted only male children. If the fetus was female, the pregnancy was terminated immediately."

"Sweet Deities," Rupert breathed. "So there's a whole little army of Etan Lippas out there somewhere?"

"Not exactly. Palpatine was apparently looking for some specific trait or traits. Most of the children were killed at about the age of three or four."

"That's about when a kid would show signs of a dominant Force-talent—if you knew what to look for," Rupert reasoned.

"Right. But Etan Lippa was allowed to live. It may be that he was the only one of Palpatine's sons to exhibit whatever trait the Emperor was looking for, but that's just speculation. He maintained the breeding camps, even after he'd decided to let Etan Lippa live, although he continued to destroy the products of those camps. At any rate, when Lippa was three, he and his mother were removed to a special facility, where the Emperor personally oversaw the boy's development. And according to Brenna's report here, it was not pretty. Apparently, when Lippa was about five or six, the boy's mother did something to anger the Emperor, and he made Etan Lippa a witness to her execution. Among other things."

Rupert let out a breath. "No wonder the man is such a sicko. So is Etan Lippa the only living offspring of the Emperor?"

Luke shrugged. "The Emperor left orders that if anything happened to him, the rest of the women and their children, except for Etan Lippa, were to be killed. After the Battle of Endor, this order was carried out-at four of the five facilities. At the fifth, the commander of the facility apparently didn't see the need to obey Palpatine, since the Emperor was already dead. Or maybe he foresaw the outcome of the rest of the war, and figured it would go better for him if he came to trial if he disobeyed Palpatine's last order. At any rate, there were nineteen women, three of whom were known to be pregnant, and twelve children ranging in age from infancy to three and a half, who were not killed right away. Of those numbers, five women and three children remain unaccounted for. The rest are dead."

Rupert frowned. "Dead?"

"Someone - Etan Lippa, probably-tracked them down and murdered them. The ones that escaped somehow managed to disappear from all public records."

"That's...not an easy thing to do."

"Not easy, but possible. I did it, when I changed from Luke Skywalker to Ben Owens. It's not something one can do without help, or without lots of money." Luke opened a shoulder pack and began stuffing food rations into it.

"You don't have to go through with this, Luke," Rupert said.

"I _do_ have to go through with it. She's my daughter. I'd go through with it even if she hadn't ensured that I would by threatening the extinction of the Afterlife if I didn't."

"She's dangling hope out in front of you, like bait for a trap."

"A possibility," Luke admitted.

"Divide and conquer, remember? What if she's just separating us to make it easier to destroy us?"

"That's a chance I have to take." Luke picked up the hand-held computer and put it into his pack, then took Rupert by the shoulders. "If there's even the slightest possibility that I can turn her to the Good side, or that she never in fact left it, I have to go. Do you understand?"

"Didn't you say that the best way was for us to work together?"

"I might have been wrong about that. And there's something else. Inside the cave, I can sense something that I can't sense outside. It's almost like there's another presence, but I can't pinpoint it."

"Something generated by the cave itself?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Etan Lippa? Could he...somehow be with her? Maybe a telepathic link, or something?"

"I don't know. But whatever it is, I think it's generated by something in the cave other than Brenna. There's too much I don't know, Rupert. This seems to be the only way I'll find out. And by the way, Brenna said something about housebreaking you for your next mate."

Rupert blinked in confusion. "What?"

"That was pretty much _my_ reaction. I don't think she knows, and I wouldn't go telling her, if I were you."

"Or it could be that she _does_ know, and wants us to _think_ that she doesn't."

"Right."

Rupert watched as Luke turned and placed a cylindrical tube in the sack. "I hope you're not planning to use that," he said. "I'm not sure I could let you."

"It's for training purposes only," Luke lied. He fastened the sack and slung it over his shoulder. "There's one more thing, Rupert. She doesn't know that the way I 'defeated' Vader and the Emperor was because Vader turned back to the Good Side. In fact, I don't even think she knows that Darth Vader was her grandfather. All she really knows is that Brenna Brellis was her aunt. When she finds out the truth, I suspect she'll be sorely disappointed. I don't know what she'll do. So stay alert. I don't know when I might need you."

"You know I can't hurt her. She's my mate."

Luke paused on his way out of the small hut. "I know."

"So…what should I do? What _can_ I do?"

"I don't have an answer to that, Rupert."

"Best advice, then."

"Best advice?" Luke turned. "My best advice is to stay with her. Maybe...I don't know. Maybe as long as there's life...there's hope." Luke gave him a tiny, encouraging smile, shifted his pack to a better position on his shoulders, and headed off down the path to the cave.

When Luke returned to the cave, there were no voices to assault his ears, no visions to meet his eyes. Even the mist was gone. Brenna was where he had left her, but she had put her clothes on.

She was sitting cross-legged on the cave floor, and looked up when he approached. "Are you going to stay?" she asked, as casually as she might have asked for the time on his chronometer.

"I'll stay."

She smiled a little, then tilted her head to the floor beside her.

Luke sat.

"Now," Brenna said, "tell me how you defeated Vader and Palpatine."

"You first. I came here. I've agreed to stay. It's time for those straight answers you promised me."

"Very well. What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with the presence I felt the last time I was here, before you shielded it."

Brenna put her hand over her stomach, and dropped her Shield enough for the faint mist to reappear.

"That," she said, "is my son."

.

.

.

It had only been a few hours since Luke had gone into the cave with Brenna, and neither one of them had come out since.

This was the longest Rupert had ever been alone. Or, not alone, exactly, but in the company of animals without any human contact, without being in the Chasm.

He wasn't in any danger of losing control again—he'd been too well-trained for that. He was just feeling...lonely.

And worried.

But those were his own emotions, not those of the creatures around him, and so they were to be treasured, whatever they were.

Rupert rolled his eyes. He'd heard that enough times, he could almost believe it. He supposed it was better than the alternative, but that was all. He felt the presence of a hungry predatory reptile nearby and touched it. Uncontrollable bloodlust. Yeah, it was better than the alternative.

He broke the link with the carnivorous reptile, but there was another one wrapped around his ankle, one whose hunger was even more deeply ingrained into him. It wouldn't be much longer now before the krail would need to eat again. It was the krail's first feeding that had caused him to get lost in the Chasm, and he wasn't altogether certain that the second feeding wouldn't do the same. But the krail had to eat to live, and eating meant killing.

Another paradox. The krail had to take a life to maintain its own life.

Then he felt it. Luke's presence. The fact that he could feel Luke's presence at all meant that Luke was outside of the cave.

_Rupert!_

The younger Jedi started at the voice in his head, but he didn't hesitate for long. _Luke! I'm here._

_I'm at the cave! I need your help! Hurry!_

Rupert ran at top speed down the path to the cave. The krail wrapped around his leg was entirely forgotten for the moment. His lightsaber was in his hand without his even thinking about it. He felt another presence now, too, and he recognized it as Brenna's. His mate's.

_Ruper— _The telepathic sending erupted into a searing streak of pain that Rupert felt across his neck. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He tried to block the link, but it was already beginning to fade. As soon as he was able to move again, he resumed his dash to the cave.

When he broke into the clearing he stumbled to another halt. Luke was there, lying on the ground, his lightsaber still activated and still in his hand. Brenna stood over him. Her own blade was still activated, too, and it was clear what had happened.

Rupert was speechless. His eyes traveled from Luke, lying on the ground, to Brenna standing over him, too stunned to say anything.

Rupert's lightsaber, no longer of any use, dropped from his nerveless fingers to the ground. He stared at Brenna, still not quite believing what his eyes and the Force were telling him.

Brenna saw him. She deactivated her weapon and put it on her belt, then stretched out her hand, and Luke's weapon flew to it. She turned it off, and hooked that on her belt as well. Then she stood up, turned, and walked away a few paces. Rupert willed his legs to take him to the place where Luke lay dead. He had to make sure. He knelt. There was an ugly burn mark on the left side of Luke's neck, and eyes that no longer could see stared upwards at the sky. Rupert laid two fingers on the right side of Luke's neck. The body was still warm, but there was no pulse.

He was dead.

Luke was dead.

With a trembling hand, Rupert closed the eyelids. Then he rose unsteadily to his feet.

Finally, he found his voice. "He's dead," he said quietly.

"Of course he's dead," Brenna retorted, not turning to face him. "I guess his unconditional love wasn't as unconditional as all that. Did he really think I'd _believe_ that nonsense about Darth Vader turning back to the Good Side?"

"You killed him." Rupert was still incredulous.

Now, she did face him. "He killed himself. He knew what I would have to do if he left the cave."

"You _killed_ him."

Brenna's anger flashed in her eyes, white-cold. "Only after I saved his life, Rupert! Both his and yours. His life was mine. I paid a high enough price for it."

"What...price?"

She laughed, amazed at his naiveté. "Did you think that time by the lake was the first time for me? Wake up, Rupert! What was the one thing I could give Etan Lippa that would convince him to give me the freedom to come here?"

"You killed your own father."

"His life was mine. I offered to sell his life back to him, but he broke our agreement. I wanted him to know what it was like for me all those years. He was to be as much my prisoner in the cave as I had been _his_ prisoner on Tatooine, and again at the Academy. I would have seen to it that he had food, water, everything he needed. He knew what the consequences would be of his leaving, and he agreed to everything beforehand. I might even have let him out eventually. But when he found out I was preg—"

She stopped suddenly, and Rupert felt her guard slam back up.

"You're _pregnant_?" he breathed out.

She regained her composure. "I suppose you would have found out sooner or later," she said. "In fact, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out already. I was pregnant when I got here."

"You paid for our lives by agreeing to bear Lippa's child?"

"You disapprove. So did my father."

"But you killed him."

"Would you rather he killed _me_? Was _I_ the only one holding a lightsaber? Didn't my father tell you that he wouldn't let me go back to Lippa, no matter what? Even after all I did for him, he _still_ wanted to control me. Well, I won't be controlled by him, or by anyone else."

She turned and strode purposefully away.

"Where are you going?" Rupert asked.

"To fulfill a prophecy," Brenna replied. "The only thing that remains is for me to go to Lippa. You can either come with me, or stay here. It's up to you. I'll keep your precious _Falcon_ and call your debt to me settled. You can have _my_ ship, if you want it, the one you and my father came here in. What you do now is your own choice."

"We should do something about your father's body. Bury it, or something."

"I don't intend to wait. Leave him for your animal friends. Having been a meat-eater, you should understand their appreciation for the gift. Or stay and bury him, if you like, but I'll be gone by the time you finish."

Rupert was incredulous. "You can't just leave him there."

"It's just crude matter, Rupert. Nothing to concern yourself with."

Rupert looked at the body of his teacher and friend indecisively. He knew what he had to do, but he couldn't just leave Luke like this. Luke would want him to go with her, to turn her back if he could. "What kind of assurances would you give me if I went with you?"

"None," she said. "Except to say that if you aren't killed first, you might someday find the opportunity to either kill me, or save me."

"Or might not?"

Brenna shrugged. "The future is always in motion."

"What about the Afterlife? When Lippa sees me, he'll know something's up."

"Of course he will. But when I explain to him the advantages of the Afterlife, he'll see things my way. When one method of obtaining information fails, there's always a second. And everyone who made it to the Afterlife is gathered together in one neat, convenient location, if the need for disposal should arise. It will be somewhat more difficult, however, to convince Etan of the advantages of keeping _you_ alive."

"So everything about the Afterlife is a hoax? You've just been using it to feed Etan Lippa information?"

"I haven't told him everything. For instance, I know in detail the defense capabilities of all the Malenta colonies _and_ the names of their top Resistance leaders."

"You haven't told him that?"

"For the moment, it serves my purpose not to. As I said, I will not allow Lippa to control me any more than I allowed my father to. Now. I am going to my ship. You have exactly as much time as it takes me to warm it up to decide whether you want to come with me."

She turned and headed down the path. Rupert stared after her, then turned and knelt beside Luke. He didn't have time to take care of Luke's body properly, but he pulled Luke into a fireman's carry and bore him to a nearby bog. "Sorry, I can't do better than this, my friend," he murmured, and let the body roll off his shoulders into the muck.

Rupert entered the cockpit silently, as Brenna was running through the pre-flight sequence.

"Your timing is excellent," she said, without looking up. "You even have a few minutes left to spare." She barely glanced at him, and her gaze dropped immediately to the bottom of his left trouser leg. "Before you sit down, I'd advise you to tell your friend to stay where he is, unless you want his head sliced off. And move the trollis out of the passenger area to one of the cargo bays. I don't want it making a mess in there."

"How did you know about the trollis?"

She hit a switch, and the monitor showed a scene of the passenger area from a high angle. Another switch, and the picture zoomed towards the game table, where a paw could just barely be seen poking from underneath. "I had a complete analysis of ship's systems done while it was on Croyus Four, and had a few new features added. I probably know her better now than you do. It pays to be thorough, you know."

Rupert left the cockpit and returned a few minutes later.

"You may sit in the co-pilot's seat," Brenna told him, and he slid uncomfortably into the chair he had not sat in since his father had given him the ship. "And by the way, I had your cut-off switch disconnected."

She took longer to do the pre-flight than was really necessary, checking systems that weren't all that vital, including the grappling hook and the automatic hatch doors.

"You sure you don't want me to pilot?" Rupert asked. "We could have been off-planet by now."

Brenna looked at him. "Are you all that anxious to meet Etan Lippa again?"

No, Rupert had to admit to himself. He wasn't.

Brenna suddenly finished the pre-flight. It was an unusual one, certainly more thorough than any he himself had ever performed after a recent overhaul, but not a complete systems check, either.

She flipped a few more switches, and the _Falcon_ hummed to life. "I suggest you strap yourself in." She activated the repulsor lifts, and the planet Dagobah faded in the distance.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

.

_For the Emperor's blood_

_And a Skywalker bride_

_Will together engender_

_The grand-sire's pride._

_._

_Descendent of Dark_

_And of Jedi will mate,_

_And a new line of heirs_

_In the Force will create._

_._

They went not to Croyus Four, but to a rendevous with Etan Lippa's star destroyer, and arrived without incident. Brenna was given no landing instructions, nor did she need them. She simply identified herself and piloted the ship to the main landing bay, which seemed to automatically become clear of traffic at her approach. Rupert saw no evidence of any further communication between Brenna and landing control. Apparently, she just picked a bay and set the ship down in it, without so much as a 'by your leave' to anyone.

She powered down and looked at Rupert. "Well, shall we?" she asked, then stood up and held her arm out in a gesture for Rupert to leave the cockpit first. Rupert stood up and managed to lose his balance.

As Brenna tried to disentangle herself from him, he quickly reached around her and surreptitiously toggled a switch.

"Sorry," Rupert apologized.

"Moron," Brenna muttered, straightening herself. She followed him out of the cabin, never noticing the switch that had been toggled.

On the outside of the ship, the switch opened one of the smaller cargo bay doors, and the dark shape of the torril jumped lightly down and trotted to one of the landing struts, where it hid itself in the shadows.

By the time Brenna lowered the gangplank, a phalanx of guards had already formed two facing columns in front of it, and another group was approaching in a protective circular formation around a single hooded figure. It was obvious to Rupert that one group was an honor guard, and the other group was a bodyguard.

Brenna strolled down the gangplank, ignoring the honor guard. Rupert hesitated, then followed.

One of the bodyguards at the bottom was a point man, detached from the others. He rapidly scanned Rupert for weapons, removed Rupert's lightsaber, then nodded to the guards at the front of the circle, who parted to reveal the hooded figure in the middle, Etan Lippa.

Brenna ignored the bodyguards as she had ignored the honor guard. "Hello, Etan," she said and went up to Lippa and kissed him on the mouth.

Etan Lippa broke off the kiss and looked at Rupert. "I thought he was dead."

"I thought he was, too. Imagine my surprise when the clean-up crew went to dispose of his body and discovered that he still had some vital signs. Faint, but there. So I had him sent to where I could keep him until I wanted him. You never know when a creature-empath might come in handy."

"I don't approve."

"Well, isn't it fortunate, then, that I never asked for your approval." She took Lippa's arm and started walking, and Rupert fell in behind them, not knowing what else to do. The crimson bodyguards moved in unison around the threesome. The honor guard fell in behind the crimson guard, forming an additional contingent.

Lippa's attention was mainly on Brenna. "You're becoming insolent. It's not wise to let a Jedi live-even a student."

"Oh, but Rupert isn't dangerous." She stopped, turned, and tickled him under the chin with her finger, as one might do with a pet. Rupert stiffened, but otherwise did not react. "Are you, Rupert?" She turned back to face Lippa. "I took the precaution of neutralizing him."

"'Neutralizing'? You mated with him!"

"I could be alone with him, unarmed, and Rupert have any weapon of his choice, and I would still be perfectly safe."

"But _I_ wouldn't?" Lippa asked.

Brenna shrugged. "Don't tell me you're afraid of someone as insignificant as Rupert, here."

"I don't trust him."

"But you trust _me_, don't you?"

"Can I?"

Brenna smiled. "I came back, didn't I?"

"Of course you did. It was your destiny. But you are late. Why, I wonder? And how is your father, by the way?"

"He's dead, thank you very much. We had a very small service. Just the immediate family in attendance. You may have all messages of condolence forwarded to my quarters."

"How can I be certain he's dead?"

"You felt it, didn't you?"

"Yes, but..." Lippa frowned, then turned to face Rupert. "I felt _him_ die, as well."

"As did I."

"Hmm. Well, I suppose one can always make a mistake. However…"

Rupert suddenly felt an alien presence inside his mind, Etan Lippa probing around inside his thoughts. This was no gentle touch, as Luke's had always been. This was not giving; this was _taking_. This was a violation, an invasion of the most intimate part of his being. Etan Lippa forced his way inside Rupert's mind. Rupert fought back, trying to block him, but in the end, Lippa succeeded in learning every secret thought. He confirmed Luke's death, then penetrated deeper and pulled Rupert's knowledge of the Afterlife.

"No!" Rupert said aloud, and in his mind.

Lippa's momentary surprise quickly disappeared. His mental gloat pressed around Rupert, torturing him with the knowledge that the Medean colony would be destroyed very soon.

Then the Dark presence inside him moved to a new area, to one even more intimately private than the Afterlife. Lippa searched for, and found, Rupert's memory of Brenna at the Dagoban lake, where she had first mated with him, how she had touched him, teased him, caressed him, until he could no longer control his desire for her. He found his memories of how she had trained him, and their second mating, after the chess game. Lippa forced his way into those most sacred memories, and then laughed at their simplicity and Rupert's reaction, while simultaneously being angry at Brenna's infidelity to him, and resolving to punish Rupert for his role in that.

Lippa rummaged around a little more, but found nothing more of real interest. He abruptly withdrew, leaving Rupert gasping and shaken.

"Such a simple mind," Lippa said. He turned to Brenna. "I thought you had better taste than that."

Brenna shrugged. "One takes what one can get. There are so few Jedi Knights left these days."

"Yes, well, it's time we had one less."

"Hands off, Etan. Rupert's mine."

"My dear, you forget who is the master, and who the apprentice. I've let you play with your toys long enough. It's time you grew up." Lippa stretched out his hand toward Rupert, and blue lightning shot from his hands. Rupert felt himself being lifted and thrown against the wall with enough force to make him cry out in surprise, but the lightning never touched him.

_What the Hell...?_ Rupert wondered. He could have sworn he'd been hit with something other than raw energy, and although he landed hard, he wasn't really hurt—it was almost as if his landing had been cushioned, and the energy bolt had never touched him.

Then he saw Brenna stretch her hand out, and he was lifted again and thrown back against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him, but no harder. He began sliding to the floor, stupified and unable to breathe.

"I told you, he's _mine_," he heard Brenna hiss. "You can't have him!"

"And I told _you_ that I don't _like_ it." Etan Lippa stretched a hand out again. Rupert stiffened as the blue lightning streaked towards him.

_Scream_, said a voice inside his head. Rupert wasn't sure where the message had come from, but it had the feel of _Luke_ to it. Maybe it was just in his imagination. But Luke had told him how the voice and then later the image of Ben Kenobi had come back to help him when he needed it most, urging him to abandon his flight computer on the Death Star run that fired the one shot that kept the Rebellion alive. Maybe this was the same thing.

_Scream!_ the inner-voice repeated. _Kick the floor! Pound the wall! For Deities' sake, do something! Or he really _will_ kill you!_

Around him, he felt a mirror image of himself, distorted, as if by pain, and suddenly, the advice of the mind-message seemed like a good idea. The lightning streaked towards him in a steady stream, but it never touched him. Rupert found his breath and let out a scream, the best he could manage. He pounded the floor with his fists and began writhing, feeling somewhat ridiculous as he did so, but aware that his life depended on Lippa believing that it was all real.

The lightning stopped, and Rupert let out a moan that sounded silly to his own ears, but it seemed to fit what he was sensing around himself.

_Good_, said the voice in his head. _Keep it up._

The lightning resumed, and Rupert began his gyrations again, making them weaker and weaker as the voice in his head advised him on how to react. Finally, the voice told him to curl up in a fetal position and stay there.

_Play dead._

Rupert let go of his hold on his knees and let his head loll into an awkward position. He felt a tension in his legs, arms, and back, and tried to let everything relax as much as he could, willing himself into a meditative state.

"Check him," said Lippa's voice.

Rupert wanted air, but he forced himself not to breathe. He'd never be able to fool a scanner, but he might be able to fool a crude check, especially if they thought he was already dead. He slowed his heart-rate as much as he could, like Luke had taught him. He had never really been much good at bio-control, but he did his best now. He felt fingers at his throat feeling for a pulse. After a few seconds, he was gratified to hear a voice above him say, "No pulse."

Rupert felt the presence moving away from him again and sneaked a peak through his eyelashes. It was one of the red-cloaked bodyguards. "I recommend a bio-scan. Shall I send for a scan-team?"

Brenna smiled. "You'd better. You wouldn't want to make the same mistake _I_ made, now, would you?"

"I don't make mistakes," Lippa replied. "Now, my dear, let's discuss this 'Afterlife' of yours."

There was the sound of steps. The group was moving away from him. Brenna's voice was saying, "It's just a diversion of mine. Nothing to get all nervous about. I'm just…putting together a little army."

Rupert heard the sound of a communicator signal, and then Lippa said, "Set course for Croyus Four. Send a planet team to the Medean system. Destroy the colony on the second planet."

The voice on the other end of the communicator said, "Yes, sir."

"And there's a body in the main hangar. Scan it, then space it, and I want visual confirmation of both."

"Yes, sir."

This time it was Brenna's tone that was annoyed. "Really, Etan, you have such a huge army. Why can't I have just a little tiny one of my own?"

"My dear, if you wish to command an army, I will give you a legion of my best troops. There are still some systems I would like to annex. I'm sure there will be battles enough to keep you entertained."

"_Your_ battles. _Your_ troops. I want my own. I don't appreciate your interference with Rupert, either."

"You have _me_. What do you need with _him_?"

"I will amuse myself any way I wish," Brenna replied.

Rupert peeked through his lashes again and saw Lippa suddenly seized Brenna's hair and forced her head back, causing her to gasp. It was all Rupert could do to stay where he was. "If you are bored," he said, "I'm sure I can find a way to...amuse you."

Brenna managed a smile. "Isn't this what you want? A woman who can make your own life less boring?"

Lippa grinned. "True," he said. "Let's see how much of a challenge you really _can_ provide." He continued to hold her hair with one hand as he pressed her against the wall with his body and groped inside her tunic with his other hand.

"Careful," Brenna hissed in warning. "You wouldn't want to do anything to endanger the baby, now, would you?"

Reluctantly, Lippa moved away and released his hold on her.

"You see?" Brenna said. "I win."

"A minor victory."

"But I would hardly present a challenge to you if I didn't win occasionally, now would I?"

Lippa's tone was astonished. "Why would you want to fight me when we could do so much better together?"

"Oh, you need someone to keep you on your toes. Don't you find it the least little bit impressive that I was able to raise an army—even a small one—right under your nose?"

"Impressive, yes, but also pointless. Surely you must know you can never defeat me."

"I never intended to defeat you. Only to…spice things up a bit."

Lippa laughed. "You _are_ everything I dreamed you would be, and more. Perhaps I'll reconsider my decision to destroy your Afterlife, after all."

"Oh, don't bother. It's not fun if you know about it."

"Very well. Your Medean colony is lost. I invite you to build another army—if you can. I shall endeavor to keep a watchful eye to prevent your doing so."

"Good," Brenna said, and then a door closed, and Rupert couldn't hear them any more.

Rupert finally drew in a much needed breath, but then heard another door open, and went back to playing dead. If it was the scanner crew, he'd never be able to fool them, but at least he had a better chance fighting them than with Lippa and his Crimson Guard. As the footsteps drew nearer, he wondered again what the _Hell_ was going on. He could have sworn it was Luke who sent those messages to him, but that was impossible. Luke was dead, and his body was buried in a Dagoban bog.

As for Rupert himself, Lippa obviously thought that he was no longer a threat, or he wouldn't have left him there, unheeded. So who was responsible for his still being alive? Brenna? If so, what was her intention? Did she want him to help her kill Lippa so that she could take his place? Should he _do_ it, in the hope that Brenna would be the lesser of two evils? Or should he escape now, while he had the chance?

He decided to wait for the hum of the scanner, thinking that the best time to surprise them would be then. He sent a message to the torril still hiding in the shadows of the _Falcon_ to sneak through the ships, stay in the shadows and follow Rupert's scent. It was a good thing he'd been thinking about Brenna rather than the torril or the krail when Lippa probed him, or the animals would certainly be dead now.

The footsteps drew closer. Rupert readied himself as best he could for the scanner hum he knew was coming, ready to spring into action. There was only one set of footsteps, one person to deal with, about a meter to his right. Then a very familiar voice interrupted his contemplations. "Are you just going to lie there all day, or are you going to help me help Brenna?"

Rupert's eyes flew open in astonishment. "_Luke!"_

His teacher grinned. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Luke was covered from head to toe with a dull gray dirt that had dried on him in cakes. He had obviously brushed himself off as best he could, but he needed a bath. From the looks of him, he needed to soak in a tub for at least a week.

"By the way, Rupert," Luke said, "I appreciate the sentiment, but the next time I die, I'd really prefer that you did _not_ throw my body into a bog of quicksand."

"I don't understand," Rupert said. "I _felt_ you die."

"As I felt _you_ die on your previous trip to Croyus Four. But obviously, we are both still alive."

"But how did you—I mean, what was all that, back on Dagobah?"

Luke rubbed the skin-deep scar on his neck a little ruefully. A little cosmetic surgery would take care of it, if he cared to go through with it. He had done it to himself, inside the cave, before the charade outside. "A necessary ruse, I'm afraid. If you had known I was alive, would you have been able to hide it from Lippa during that mind-probe?"

"No," Rupert admitted.

"That's why. Brenna can disguise our presences from Lippa for a time. She can shield herself from a mind-probe, and create a false presence around herself. She can even, for short periods of time, create a false presence around you and me—which is why we felt each other 'die.' But every task creates more of a strain, and the longer she has to keep it up, the weaker she becomes."

"I didn't know a Shield could do all that."

"That's one more thing that makes Brenna unique. Not only is she a Telekin _and_ a Shield, it's quite possible that she's the first ever _projective_ Shield. Anyway, her powers are limited, for all that, and that's why I don't want you using the Force any more than is absolutely necessary—until the time is right."

"The Afterlife!" Rupert said suddenly. "Lippa's sending an army to destroy Medea!"

"No. He only thinks he is. Brenna's got control of Croyus Four, and her own people in the communications network here. Don't worry. The scanning and body disposal crew isn't coming, either. But Lippa's still in command, and anything that doesn't go through main communications is still in his control."

"What exactly are we doing? I mean, if Brenna's that strong of a Shield, shouldn't she have been able to stop Lippa already? Or at least, get away?"

Luke shook his head. "If she'd escaped, she'd have left all those people on Croyus Four without anyone to protect them. As for stopping Lippa, that's why _we're_ here."

Rupert stared. "You're kidding. As close as she's gotten to him, couldn't she have—"

"No," Luke interrupted. "She couldn't. She _can't_ kill him. She understands that he has to be stopped, but she can't bring herself to take his life. And she doesn't want us to kill him, either."

"So why are we here?"

Luke sighed. "Brenna thinks that the three of us together can stop Lippa without killing him. She doesn't want _anyone_ killed, in fact. I have to admire her for that, but it makes our job difficult."

Rupert studied his teacher. "You don't think it can be done."

Luke shrugged. "I think that depends on Lippa. But I don't think he'll take too kindly to the idea of prison, whatever the form."

Rupert thought about the people Lippa had killed in his territorial battles, and about the trophy room on the Star Destroyer. He remembered Corran Horn's twisted body... and wondered whether leaving Lippa alive was such a good idea. "So what's the plan?" he asked.

"While we were on Dagobah, most of the garrison at Croyus Four was replaced by volunteers from the Afterlife. There are only a handful left who are loyal to Lippa, those known by Lippa personally, and most of the crew of this Star Destroyer. And, of course, the Crimson Guard. But by now, Garm and most of the others have been overpowered and retinal scanned for access to the codes that will down-load Lippa's computers and basically render them inoperable. Meanwhile, Brenna's keeping Lippa occupied so that when we arrive at Croyous Four, all personnel and ships can be evacuated, except us and the _Falcon_. Brenna's pretty sure she can keep the Crimson Guard in the dark about the evacuation, but that's about all she's sure of."

"So…why don't we just gas everyone that's left, including the Crimson Bodyguard, with that stuff Brenna uses in the gas-chambers? It'll give 'em a royal headache when they wake up, but it won't kill 'em.

"_Because_," Luke said patiently, "the Crimson Guard doesn't just include the contingent here and on Croyus Four. They're Sandorians. Lippa's contract is with the entire planet. If the ones here fail to perform their duty, there's a whole planet of mercenaries just like them who will make sure that the contract is fulfilled, or seek out and murder anyone responsible for making them lose their client, and they don't care who gets in their way. The only reason I'm alive today is because Palpatine dismissed his Crimson Guard before he died. If the client dismisses them, they're off contract until they're recalled."

"So we need to get Lippa to dismiss them," Rupert said.

"Brenna can do that. The problem is making sure he can't recall them. Brenna thinks she can handle that, too, but there's a chance she could be wrong."

Rupert frowned. "I thought you said Brenna had control of the communications network."

"They've got their own closed network. Nobody's quite sure how they do it, but they can even contact their homeworld if the need arises. Maybe they're telepathic. But the terms of the contract stand. If Lippa dismisses them, and until Lippa recalls them, the contract is void. But if, by some chance, he should recall them…"

"Then we've got trouble."

"Exactly," Luke said.

.

.

.

The Star Destroyer _The Despondent_ orbited Croyus Four, and the Captain piloted Etan Lippa's shuttle to the surface personally. Lippa gave the Captain a disc of pre-recorded orders, and instructed him to follow them to the letter.

Brenna smiled.

The trip to Brenna's private quarters seemed ordinary enough. Lieutenants and lower-ranking officers scurried this way and that, busy with the day-to-day operations. Every now and then an officer approached Brenna with an electronic slate needing her signature, signature requests that had apparently built up during her absence.

They arrived at Brenna's quarters, and Lippa dismissed his Crimson guard and the honor guard that had also met them in the landing bay.

Meanwhile, Luke and Rupert had acquired a pair of forged lower-level clearance identities onboard the Star Destroyer and basically hung out in their tiny assigned cabin until they arrived at Croyus Four. Luke had gotten his much needed shower, and the two were given clearance to leave the Star Destroyer as to pilot The _Falcon_ to the surface and relieve replacements for certain Croyus Four workers who were being reassigned to _The Despondent_. Oddly, there seemed to be many more workers being assigned to _The Despondent_ than there were the other way around.

A moment later, her comm station buzzed for attention. She blew out a breath and stood up to answer it, holding the earpiece to her head. "Yes?" she said. Then a moment later, "Thank you." She clicked off, then went to stand behind Etan Lippa and rub his shoulders. "Etan," she said, "what, in your opinion, is the most important factor in mounting an attack?"

"Weaponry," he said immediately. "Superior weaponry."

"I disagree," Brenna replied. "The most important factor is communications."

"No, my dear. With superior weaponry, you create the fear necessary for control."

"But if you have control of communications, you create the means to disseminate disinformation, relay false orders, cut off actual ones."

"Ah, but that is why orders are always preceeded by codes."

"Codes can be hacked. Shall I give you a demonstration?"

"By all means."

"Do you remember the three Resistance leaders from the Academy whose names I gave you?"

"Of course. Martuck, Finn, and Wissain."

"Yes. Martuk was the leader. Finn and Wissain were more like…geeks. Nerds, if you will. And, in fact, Wissain had no real connection to the Resistance until you kidnapped him."

"I was present at their interrogations. They both broke rather easily."

"Mmmm. Did you know that Jaff Wissain was also an amateur actor? That he had had the lead role in a number of campus productions?"

"I may have read that in his file somewhere."

"Did you also know that he hacked into campus communications, some of the most secure communications systems around, to give himself better grades than he actually earned, to cancel classes when it suited him, and that he basically spent all of his time doing what he wanted to do, which was acting and hacking into communications networks."

Lippa leaned forward, not sure where she was going with this.

"And did you know," Brenna went on, "that Wissain actually has a genius-level IQ and a distaste for the mundane?"

Lippa caught the subtle tense change. "'Has'?"

"Yes, 'has,'" Brenna confirmed. "The 'interrogation' you witnessed was more like a play, with an audience of one: you. Wissain should win an award for his performance. And, Etan, did you know that I had months—_months—_to prepare for your arrival? I _knew_ you were coming for me at the Academy. I was not idle, and neither was my astromech 'droid. Somehow, in its long career, it acquired the programming to hack into Imperial systems. Artoo helped me find three allies at the Academy, those whose names I gave you as the 'Resistance Leaders.' And finally, Etan, do you know where Jaff Wissain and my Artoo unit are at this minute?"

"On _The Despondent_," Lippa realized. He stood and pulled his comm-link out of his pocket. "Lippa to _Despondent,_" he said.

There was no answer.

Brenna shook her head. "_The Despondent_ is out of short-wave range by now, and all long-range communications have been disabled."

"What are you doing, Brenna?"

"Giving you the challenge that you wanted. Just like I gave Jaff Wissain, Devon Martuk, and Trevis Finn the challenges that _they_ wanted. And if you come with me, I'll show you more."

She stood up and waited for Lippa to preceed her to the door. When the door wouldn't open, he ordered, "Open!" but it remained closed.

Brenna strode to the palm-reader plate and pressed her hand against it. "Every door in this facility is now programmed to open only to my handprint. Of course, you could kill me or cut off my hand, but there are failsafes-pulse monitors, cadaver detections—that sort of thing. You might be able to disable the system, but it was programmed by Jaff Wissain, and the codes are known only to him and me. I'll give you the codes if you agree to my terms."

"Terms?"

"Of surrender."

Lippa laughed. "My dear, there are no terms." He reached over to his shoulder to touch a decorative brooch that was more than mere decoration.

"Your Crimson Guard is on its way back to their homeworld. You dismissed them, remember? And it seems you neglected to pay them on your last due date. By the terms of your contract, they were no longer obligated to protect you."

"What? Impossible! They have top budget priority."

"Again, communications. You approved the transfer of funds yourself. It was one of the line items in one of my 'mundane' budget reports. I didn't even have to empty the account, just make sure it was below the amount specified by their contract."

"Impressive," Etan Lippa said. "But hardly enough to make me 'surrender.'"

"I have something else to show you, in the landing bay, which _may_ be enough to make you surrender. Shall we?"

"By all means," Lippa said, amused.

Brenna led the way to the landing bay. Oddly, all the bustle that was apparent on the way _to_ her quarters was missing now, and the hallways were eerily quiet. Etan Lippa wasn't…_worried_, exactly, but he was beginning to grow concerned.

But when the bay doors opened and he saw that ridiculous ship Brenna had claimed as her own when that boy Rupert Solo first came to Croyus Four, and a couple of groundsmen working on it, doing routine maintenance, he relaxed somewhat.

The door closed behind them, and Lippa gestured to the bay. "So?"

"So, we are the only four people left on Croyus Four."

"Nonsen—" Lippa started to say, but then the two workers turned to face him, and he saw who they really were. "You!" he exclaimed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_._

_And the get of the union,_

_Despite Jedi schemes,_

_When it comes of an age,_

_Will achieve sire's dreams._

_._

_Like mother, like daughter,_

_Like father, like son._

_The tree bears the fruit_

_When the planting is done._

_._

Lippa's surprise was profound. "_You_!" he said. "_Both_ of you!"

"Both of us," Luke replied.

"You were _dead_. I saw it in his mind! How did you—?"

Behind him, Brenna shook her head. "No, Etan, they were never 'dead.' I just fooled you into thinking that they were."

"You're outnumbered now, Etan," Luke said. "You can surrender, and live. Or fight us, and die."

"Surrender? Live?" Etan laughed. "You think I am afraid of you?"

Brenna let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Etan, but I can't let you keep decimating the Outer Rim systems. This is the best I can do for you. There are enough supplies to last several lifetimes. No communications equipment, of course. It's all been removed. You'll have free access to the entire facility. A couple of service 'droids to wait on you. More entertainments than you could possibly view. I figured it was better than a New Republic prison."

Lippa laughed again. "You want to maroon me here? I will not give in so easily."

"You don't have a choice, Etan."

Etan Lippa turned to her and smiled. "My dear, there is _always_ the choice. I have dealt with Jedi before. They are not invincible."

"Before, it was one at a time," Luke reminded him. "Not three at once."

"There are only _two_ of you, if I'm not mistaken," Lippa corrected. "Brenna never claimed to be Jedi."

Brenna stepped around Etan Lippa to face him, putting herself between Lippa, and her father and Rupert. "But I _am_ on their side, Etan. I can't let you keep doing what you're doing to the outer-rim systems. And I won't let you do to them what you did to the others."

Lippa laughed. "My dear, you continually underestimate me."

"Let me outline the situation for you. If you fight us, even if you win, you'll be stuck here, anyway. The _Falcon_ is set for self-destruct if all three of us don't enter the right codes in a timely manner. And again, there are more fail-safes, so you can't use a cadaver to enter the codes, for example."

"An interesting problem to work on, but not insurmountable."

"Jaff says it can't be done."

"Your 'Jaff' does not have my abilities."

"My father doesn't think it can be done, either."

"Neither does your father."

"Just remember, Etan. Anything you do to me also affects your son." She put her hand on her stomach.

"Sounds like a pretty lonely existence you are condemning me to, even for me."

"It's the best I can offer," Brenna told him.

"Not an offer I'm willing to accept. And my dear, you should know that by bringing your father and his apprentice here, you have merely saved me the trouble of searching for them." He quickly pointed his hand at Luke, and sent his blue energy lightning toward him. Brenna put up a shield around Luke, preventing the lightning from touching him.

Luke's lightsaber was already in his hand as he started to charge Lippa. Rupert was an instant behind, having sent commands to his krail and torril to attack Lippa from opposite directions.

"Wait!" Brenna shouted. Luke held back. Rupert sent commands to the krail and torril to freeze.

She faced Lippa. "Etan, I can offer one thing more. If you stay her—peacefully—then I'll come to visit you."

Rupert was stunned. "Brenna, you can't do that!"

She faced him. "It's my life, Rupert. I can bargain with it as I choose."

Lippa seemed interested. "You would stay here with me, as my mate?"

She hesitated. "No. But I would come to visit you. Keep you company from time to time. Say...one standard day out of every year, so you would have someone to talk to."

He was silent for a moment, considering. Then he said, "How do I know your offer is genuine? You're a shield. You could be deceiving me."

"I give you my word," Brenna said.

"It's not enough. I will agree to this...alternative on one condition."

"What's that?"

"If you permit me to enter your mind."

Brenna stiffened. Then she nodded. "All right."

Rupert couldn't believe it. "Luke, you have to stop her!"

His teacher shook his head. "It's not my place. Nor is it yours. If she's willing to make that agreement, I won't stop her."

Lippa moved closer to Brenna and put his hands on the sides of her face. The physical touch was unnecessary, but she accepted it. Rupert sensed the barrier around Brenna dissolve, and a presence being exposed—Brenna's natural presence, unshielded and undistorted. It wasn't dark and cold at all. It was warm, like he felt on Tatooine, but also...uncertain. Then Brenna's presence became lost as Lippa's merged with it.

As Rupert watched, Brenna's face became transfixed. For a moment, she seemed content like that. Then her expression became alarmed.

_Did you think you could hide that from me?_ asked the voice in Brenna's mind, laughing. _Killing that old man?_

_I'm not...like you._

_Enough like me. Then there's the prophecy to consider, as well. There is one benefit from your little trip. Now you know that even the 'great' Yoda could find no fault with it._

The prophecy. She couldn't think about the prophecy. _You promised you would stay here._

_Oh, yes! I have no intention of leaving. Not for a while, anyway. But I'll not stay as your prisoner. How long do you think it would be before my forces arrived, even if the three of you could overpower me for a time?_

_With New Alliance forces standing guard-_

_The Alliance can't afford to stretch its limited resources for an outpost this far from the central systems. Not in any measure that would be adequate against my troops. And how long do you think you, and your father, and your...**lover—**_He spat the word in her mind_—__can keep me here without that?_

_I'll find a way. Or my father will._

_He intends to kill me. As I do him, and your creature-empath pet. And you can do nothing to stop it. Nor will you want to. When you erased your creature-empath's memories, you had his cooperation to assist your weak powers. I will not need yours._

_You can't. No one is that powerful._

_No? Your father's former students, before they died, had some interesting secrets to share with me. Unfortunately, the location of you and your father was not among them. They simply did not know where he had taken you._

Realization dawned in Brenna's mind. _The old man—you could have just read his mind. You didn't have to torture him._

_I did read his mind, although the information he had was not that important to me. The rest was...an entertainment. Now, about those memories..._

_You can't change deep-rooted memories, only the surface ones. _But even as she thought it, Brenna knew that it wasn't true.

_It's already been done to you. Many years ago, but someone has changed your memories. Wiped out your original memories and replaced them with false ones. I recognize the signs. I'll give you one guess who did it._

Brenna wanted to protest, to say that it wasn't true. But she knew that it was. Her father. Her father had pulled something from her mind years ago, and replaced those memories with something else. Something to do with her mother. But she'd been very small then. She'd learned a lot since then._ I'm a Shield. I can block you._

_Yes, but for how long? How long, when you are physically and mentally exhausted? When you've had no sleep for days, because you've been warding off physical and mental attacks—after trying uselessly to protect your father and his latest student. I will see to it that you are so weak, you won't have the ability to fend off the attack of a jib-bug, much less a master of the Force. Who knows but with enough time and patience, I might even succeed in turning you to the Dark Side._

_I'll die first._

_I would never permit it. Would you like me to give you a taste of what it will be like for you?_

_No! Get out of my mind!_

_My dear, I'm already here._

And then Brenna screamed.

All at once, a piece of equipment flew across the room and crashed into Lippa's back. The Dark Lord howled in fury and pain. Brenna sagged to the floor as he lost his mental hold on her.

A barrage of flying objects attacked Lippa from all directions. He spun to meet them, and destroyed them all with bolts of blue-energy. In the midst of all that, a figure holding a wand of light charged at Lippa with all the speed a Jedi could manage.

Rupert cursed himself for being so slow, activated his own lightsaber, and followed after Luke. Now that Lippa had exceeded the limits of the mind-touch, all bets were off. Rupert sent a mental command to the krail on the floor and the torril behind a support as he was running, and saw Luke fall under a stream of energy.

Then the torril screamed, and was still. Brenna had shielded her father and was unable to save the creature from Etan's wrath.

Rupert still had the krail. He let the krail's perspective fill his mind, and he saw that the serpent was within striking range. But just as he told his pet snake to attack, he felt Lippa's presence entering his mind. The next thing Rupert felt was white-hot searing pain as the krail was killed by Lippa's lightning.

The empathy-link was too strong. Rupert cried out and fell to the floor. It took every bit of his training to keep himself from losing his mind completely. As it was, his head felt like it had exploded from the inside out, but he was still...himself. Still alive. With an effort, he twisted his head and saw Luke. His teacher was nearby, also on the floor, but unconscious.

Despite the explosion in his head, Rupert pushed himself to his knees, but he felt like he was moving through thick mud. Everything was slow-motion. He knew now that Etan Lippa was stronger than all of them, than all three of them together. He knew that he would die, it was just a question of how long. But somehow, somehow he would find the strength to try just once more. Just once more. He'd try just once more.

And if he was lucky, Etan Lippa would kill him quickly.

Brenna was in a state of shock. She'd been totally unprepared for the mind-rape, had never experienced anything like that before. He'd pulled her darkest, most private thoughts from her, stripped them of all their covering, defiled them, exposed them for the filthy black things they were. She'd always known that she was a sham, and now Lippa knew it, too, and pretty soon, her father and Rupert would also know it. She'd felt that from him. He'd let them know what she was before he killed them, and she knew from the strength of the assault that she'd be able to stop neither the knowledge nor the killing.

Pieces of Yoda's words came floating back to her, from the papers she carried in a pocket on her person.

.

_Author of Shadows_

_And Painter of Night_

_Make illusions of knowledge_

_By blocking the Light._

_._

She'd blocked the light, blocked the truth. She'd never shown her father the pages, she'd hidden them from him, and kidded herself that there could ever be a flaw in the prophecy. It was true. The prophecy was coming true, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

.

_The last of one line,_

_The first of another;_

_Skywalker's end,_

_New destiny's mother._

_._

Etan Lippa would make certain her father knew the prophecy before he killed him, and then her father would die hating her.

.

_For the Emperor's blood_

_And a Skywalker bride_

_Will together engender_

_Sire and grand-sire's pride._

_._

She raised her head slowly and opened her eyes, but she couldn't see. Then she realized it was because of the tears in her eyes. She wiped them away and saw Lippa looking down at her. Instinctively, she built up a barrier around herself and shrank away from him on the floor.

"Now do you see?" he asked her. "You were meant for me, and I for you. There's no escape, no flaw."

Brenna said nothing aloud. Inside she was repeating the words from the prophecy. She didn't know why. She'd been over them a million times.

.

_And the get of the union,_

_Despite all your schemes,_

_When it comes of an age_

_Will fulfill sire's dreams._

_._

_And Palpatine's seed_

_In garden well-tended_

_Will grow into fruit_

_As prophecy's ended._

.

"There is no hope for you," Lippa was saying. "Now that I know what you are, I will not repeat past mistakes. This time, I'll do it right. First, I'll deal with your father and the other pest, then with you. And your 'Afterlife.' I wouldn't want any of those escapees to escape. It would ruin the reputation I plan to establish for you."

"Stop..." Brenna whispered.

"Stop? Who is to stop me? But I will do this much for you. I will allow you to kill one of them yourself." He raised his eyebrows. "Surprised? I am not totally without compassion. I will allow you to spare one the agony that the other will suffer. But I will dispose of the body myself. There will be no more deceptions. So. Which one will it be? You haven't much time to make your decision."

"No..."

Rupert was still shaking, but he managed to raise himself up on his hands. He was so weak, he was in danger of falling again. Even if he could gain his feet, however, he didn't have a clue about what to do.

"Can't decide?" Lippa was saying. "Well, then, I shall have to deal with both of them myself."

"Don't hurt them," Rupert heard Brenna beg. Her voice was shaken, frightened. "Etan, if you care about me at all, don't hurt them."

Rupert saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and knew that Luke was starting to come around.

"'Care' about you? You? Who betrayed me in everything? I think you mistake my feelings for you."

"Etan, I swear. If you stop now, give up the killing and the hurting, I'll go with you, wherever you like. But I swear, too, if you persist, I will find a way to stop you. Even if it means killing you."

Lippa smiled. "How can you stop me? I've seen your thoughts. I know the limits of your powers. You've overextended yourself. You can't protect them both at the same time against a real attack. You must choose which one to try to protect, and which one will die first."

Another part of the prophecy came to her again, unbidden.

.

_All choices bring doom._

_The battle cannot be won._

_You cannot protect many,_

_You can shield but the One._

_._

Rupert staggered to his feet, but as he did, he suddenly felt on fire. He screamed as the energy bolt knocked him down again and curled up into a fetal position as his body reflexively tried to protect itself, but to no avail. Then the fire stopped, and Rupert became coherent enough to realize that Brenna had put a shield around him. Then Luke cried out, and the shield around Rupert slipped as she built up another one around Luke. The fire returned as Lippa renewed the attack on Rupert, and then the shield came up again, a little weaker than before.

"Stop it!" Brenna shouted. "Etan, please! Stop it!"

Lippa laughed, gloating. "You can't shield both of them. You can only shield one. Which one is it to be?"

Which one? It was decision she couldn't make. She couldn't choose. She'd end up trying to shield both, and shielding neither.

.

_You cannot protect many,_

_You can shield but the One._

_._

The lines of Yoda's message wouldn't leave her brain. There was something important in the words.

"You see? I _will_ kill them both, and you cannot stop me. Now that I know what you really are, I know how to deal with you. It is not necessary that you come to me willingly. You will still bear my children. Because if you do not, I will kill one other child for every day that you are not pregnant, and I will do it myself, in your presence, in such a way that there can be no mistake."

"No..." Brenna said. She looked at her father, collapsed on the floor, then at Rupert, who was in the same condition. No.

.

_You can shield but the One._

_._

It was almost as if Yoda himself were standing there talking to her, and the words were telling her what to do. And then, suddenly, she understood.

"Everything you've done here—" Lippa waved his arms expansively "—is a hollow effort on your part. In fact, I could use Medea as a base—after I remove its current residents, of course."

"No," Brenna said again, but this time, her tone was more steady. She knew now who the 'One' was, and it wasn't her father, or Rupert, or even herself. "I won't let you cause any more pain. My word on that, Etan."

Rupert managed to lift his head. He saw Luke curled up on the floor as he had been, but with his right hand fluttering crazily. The blue lightning must have caused the circuitry of the bionics to go haywire. Rupert shifted his gaze and saw Brenna and Lippa looking at each other, eyes locked. In Brenna's eyes, he saw something he had never seen before: a kind of firmness and determination tinged with the dark complexity of innocence lost. Something had died within her, and in its place was something darker and stronger and far more deadly.

Rupert struggled to push his knees under himself again, but failed. His head was still exploding; his body was unresponsive. The only thing working was his eyes. If he could have seen his own eyes, he would have seen that the exact same qualities held in Brenna's eyes were mirrored in his own. He saw Lippa smile and turn away from Brenna, towards Rupert.

Unable to move, he could only continue to watch as Lippa raised both hands in his direction. Rupert closed his eyes reflexively as he anticipated the blue-lightning being released.

But the fire never reached him. When the expected agony didn't come, Rupert opened his eyes again. The blue-lightning was bending back on itself, back to Lippa. The Dark Lord's face twisted into surprise, then anguish, and then he began to howl. "I can't stop!" he screamed. "I can't control it! Lower your shield!"

Brenna remained where she was, hands slightly outstretched and shaking with effort, eyes squeezed shut against what she knew she was doing to him, and tears streaming freely down her face. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't let you kill them."

It was surreal. Lippa, enveloped as if in a clear egg of crackling blue light, Brenna frozen in place, casting an invisible but very real shell around Lippa, causing his own hatred to destroy him. Lippa fell to his knees, screaming, out of control, dying by his own powers. He collapsed to the floor, still encased in blue Force-energy, and the screams stopped.

Gradually, the blue-lightning faded away, and all that was left was an unmoving heap of smoldering clothes.

Brenna's hands dropped. She sank to her knees. She was barely able to support herself as bile rose up in her throat, and she was lost whatever contents were in her stomach, onto the floor in front of her, before falling to her side.

.

.

.

**Epilogue**

.

_When prophecy frightens_

_And prophecy charms,_

_A child unborn_

_Will call Jedi to arms._

_._

_For the Emperor's blood_

_And a Skywalker bride_

_Will together engender_

_The grand-sire's pride._

_._

Rupert was the first to regain his ability to move, and with great effort managed to climb to his feet. He looked around the landing bay, saw Etan Lippa's body, Luke's inert form, and Brenna.

The choice of who to go to was easy for him.

Fighting his own exhaustion and sickness, he went to his mate and lifted her head to his chest. "Brenna—" he whispered.

Brenna looked at him for a moment, then turned aside and retched. Rupert held her, and when she was done, he used a corner of his shirt to wipe her mouth off.

When she looked up again, her eyes were vacant, distant. When she spoke, her voice was monotone. "My father," she said. "Help him..."

Rupert kissed her forehead, assured her that he would return in a moment, then laid her carefully on the floor and staggered to Luke.

The older man was barely alive. His prosthetic right hand, circuits overloaded by the effect of the energy stream on the electronics, twitched uncontrollably. Rupert lifted Luke's head into his arm and stroked the side of his mentor's face, repeating Luke's name quietly until the older man's eyes fluttered open.

"Brenna," Luke whispered.

"She's alive. But not well. She needs a doctor. So do you."

"Take me...to her."

Rupert was too weak to pick him up, and so ended up dragging Luke back to where Brenna was. Rupert saw that she'd been sick again, but for the moment, she was staring straight ahead. He set Luke down next to his daughter, careful to avoid the small pools where she'd been sick, and propped him up against a support. Brenna seemed not to know that Luke and Rupert were there.

"Brenna...listen to me," Luke said. "Let it..." He coughed, still oxygen-weak. "Let it go! Don't...hold it in."

Rupert laid a hand on his teacher's cheek in a brief promise. "I'll take it from here, Luke," he said, then turned his attention to Brenna. He sat down beside her, put his arms around her, and pulled her against his chest. "It's all right," he murmured. "It's all over."

But she only looked at him blankly for a moment, then turned aside and retched again.

"It's over," Rupert repeated.

Finally, Brenna responded. She put a hand to her stomach and shook her head, not looking at either Rupert or her father. "Not…yet." she whispered.

.

.

.

_Author's Note:_

_To learn what happens next, read "The Face in the Shadows" published in FFN by me. Here is the order of stories:_

_The Legion Renewed (right after ROTJ)_

_Skywalker's Legacy (published by me under pen name "Nadahnefu", 20 years after "Legion.")_

_*Prophecy's Child (this story)_

_The Face in the Shadow (starts immediately after Prophecy's childl_

_The Justice of Clan Tahl (published by me in FFN under pen name "Denisea H" —starts a few months after "Face')_

_Sorry about the different pen names, but I lost access to the e-mail associated with my pen name "Nadahnefu" and have long-since forgotten the password, and then reached my 50 document limit under the "Denisea" pen name. _

_Thanks for reading. If you like this and the other stories, please leave a review._

_-Denisea_


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